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PRO PATRIA 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 
FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


BY 

HENRY VAN DYKE 

AMERICAN LECTURER AT THE SORBONNE, 1908-1909 
AMERICAN MINISTER TO THE NETHERLANDS, 1913-1917 
COMMANDEUR, LEGION d’hONNEUR, 1919 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1921 

C-ofy^ 


Copyright, 1921, by Charles Scribner's Sons 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 
Copyright, 1910, by Macmillan &• Co. 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 
Copyright, 1917, by Charles Scribner's Sons 






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V 


MAY I I 1921 



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-VVAf 'Y 


TO OUR COUNTRY 
IN PEACE OR WAR 


GOD GUIDE HER 

TO MAKE AND KEEP THE PEACE 




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PREFACE 


The two books brought together here were 
written under very different conditions. So far 
as they have any biographical bearing they are 
simply illustrations of the variety of work that 
life has offered me: tasks so many and so di- 
verse, that looking back I am not a little 
ashamed at having undertaken them. Yet each 
came unsought, seemed necessary at the time, 
and though marred by faults in execution, had 
a certain value in the unfinished process of an 
education which has led me not away from life, 
but into it. 

The first part of the volume. The Spirit of 
America^ contains seven of the twenty-six con- 
ferences given in the winter of 1908-1909, when 
I was American Professor at the University of 
Paris, on the foundation established by Mr. 
James Hazen Hyde, of Harvard. They were 
delivered in English, repeated in part at the 
other universities of France, and published in 
French in the spring of 1909 under the title of 
Le Genie de V Amerique. It has not seemed 
worth while to try to disguise the fact that 
vii 


PREFACE 


these chapters were prepared as lectures, and 
that their purpose was to promote a good un- 
derstanding between France and the United 
States. Indeed this very fact may lend some 
interest to the book, at least for those readers 
who rejoice in the deepened friendship between 
the two Republics, — a friendship now doubly 
sealed with the blood of heroes. My words 
may not have done much to strengthen that 
sacred brotherhood in the cause of freedom and 
fair play which united France and America in 
the world war, but perhaps they did a little. I 
am glad that I had the chance to speak them, 
just so, in Paris five years before the great 
ordeal came to try the souls of men and na- 
tions. 

The second part of the volume. Fighting for 
PeacOy refers to the war itself. But it is not in 
any sense a military narrative. It is a record 
of experiences and observations during my ser- 
vice as American Minister to the Netherlands 
and Luxembourg from September, 1913, to 
January, 1917, and in the following months, 
when I went through war-worn England and 
war-torn France out to the trenches before Ver- 
dun under fire. 

The chapters were written after I returned 
viii 


PREFACE 


to the United States, and before I got into ac- 
tive service in the navy. I had been for some 
weeks in hospital in England and came home 
in May through the danger-zone of the subma- 
rines. The whole thing, — the ‘‘confused noise 
and garments rolled in blood,” — was vividly 
real to me. I remember the tension of long 
hours of work in my little cabin on the Maine 
coast in that summer of 1917, getting the 
chapters ready for Scribner^ s Magazine. Neces- 
sity was laid upon me to bear witness to the 
Spirit of America concerning the cause, the 
meaning, the inevitable issues of the war. I 
wanted to draw a picture, clear in outline, 
condensed in details, which should show three 
things. 

First, the unprotected slumber of peace in 
Europe which Germany broke : second, the vio- 
lence and ruthlessness with which she waged 
her war for world-power: third, the only kind 
of victory which could end the conflict and pro- 
tect peace on earth, including America. 

Since that summer of 1917 many things have 
happened, some glorious, and some dishearten- 
ing. The twist in human nature has revealed 
itself as usual. Germany was beaten but the 
war is not ended. If I were drawing the pic- 


IX 


PREFACE 


ture to-day some things would need to be added, 
but nothing to be omitted. Let it stand. 

I still believe that a just peace is worth fight- 
ing for. I still believe that the nations must 
have a compact together to establish and defend 
it on the basis of right above might. I still 
believe that the Spirit of America will lead and 
compel her to covenant with the other nations, 
great and small, to protect peace. 

Avalon, October 5, 1920. 


X 


CONTENTS 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 
Introduction 3 

I. The Soul of a People 9 

II. Self-Reliance and the Republic 36 

III. Fair Play and Democracy 77 

IV. Will-Power, Work, and Wealth 119 

V. Common Order and Social Cooperation 157 

VI. Personal Development and Education 203 

VII. Self-Expression and Literature 250 

FIGHTING FOR PEACE 
Foreword 297 

I. Fair-Weather and Storm Signs 301 

II. The Werwolf at Home 330 

III. The Werwolf at Large 336 

IV. Germania Mendax 372 


XI 


CONTENTS 


V. 

A Dialogue on Peace between a House- 



holder and a Burglar 

396 

VI. 

Stand Fast, Ye Free ! 

401 

VII. 

Pax Humana 

449 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


LECTURES AT THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS ON THE 
JAMES H. HYDE FOUNDATION, 1908-1909 


TO MADAME 

ELISABETH SAINTE-MARIE PERRIN, BAZIN 


To inscribe your name upon this volume, dear Madame, is to recall 
delightful memories of my year in France. Your sympathy en- 
couraged me in the adventurous choice of a subject so large and 
simple for a course of lectures at the Sorbonne. While they were 
in the making, you acted as an audience of one, in the long music- 
room at Hostel and in the forest of St. Gervais, and gave gentle 
counsels of wisdom in regard to the points likely to interest and 
retain a larger audience of Parisians in the AmphithSdtre Richelieu. 
Then, the university adventure being ended without mishap, your 
skill as a translator admirably clothed the lectures in your own 
lucid language, and sent them out to help in strengthening the ties 
of friendship between France and America. Grateful for all the 
charming hospitality of your country, which made my year happy 
and, I hope, not unfruitful, I dedicate to you this book on the 
Spirit of America, because you have done so much to make me 
understand, appreciate, and admire the true Spirit of France. 


Avalon, 
December, 1909 


HENRY VAN DYKE 


INTRODUCTION 


There is an ancient amity between France 
and America, which is recorded in golden letters 
in the chronicles of human liberty. In one of 
the crowded squares of New York there is a 
statue of a young nobleman, slender, elegant, 
and brave, springing forward to offer his sword 
to the cause of freedom. The name under that 
figure is Lafayette. In one of the broad avenues 
of Paris there is a statue of a plain gentleman, 
grave, powerful, earnest, sitting his horse like a 
victor and lifting high his sword to salute the 
star of France. The name under that figure is 
Washington. 

It is well that in both lands such a friendship 
between two great men and two great peoples 
should be 

^^Immortalised hy arfs immortal praise, 

It is better still that it should be warmed and 
strengthened by present efforts for the common 
good: that the world should see the two repub- 
lics standing together for justice and fair play 
at Algeciras, working together for the world’s 
peace at the Congress of The Hague. 

3 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


But in order that a friendship like this may 
really continue and increase, there must be 
something more than a sentimental sympathy. 
There must be a mutual comprehension, a real 
understanding, between the two peoples. Ro- 
mantic love, the little Amor with the bow and 
arrows, may be as blind as the painters and 
novelists represent him. But true friendship, 
the strong god Amicitia, is open-eyed and clear- 
sighted. So long as Frenchmen insist upon 
looking at America merely as the country of the 
Skyscraper and the Almighty Dollar, so long as 
Americans insist upon regarding France merely 
as the home of the Yellow Novel and the Ever- 
lasting Dance, so long will it be difficult for the 
ancient amity between these two countries to 
expand and deepen into a true and vital con- 
cord. 

France and America must know each other 
better. They must learn to look each into the 
other’s mind, to read each the other’s heart. 
They must recognise each other less by their 
foibles and more by their faiths, less by the 
factors of national weakness and more by the 
elements of national strength. Then, indeed, 
I hope and believe they will be good and faith- 
ful friends. 

It is to promote this serious and noble pur- 
4 


INTRODUCTION 


pose that an American gentleman, Mr. James 
Hazen Hyde, has founded two chairs, one at the 
University of Paris, and one at Harvard Uni- 
versity, for an annual interchange of professors, 
(and possibly of ideas,) between France and 
America. Through this generous arrangement 
we have had the benefit of hearing, in the 
United States, MM. Doumic, Rod, de Regnier, 
Gaston Deschamps, Hugues Le Roux, Mabil- 
leau, Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu, Millet, Le Braz, 
Tardieu, and the Vicomte d’Avenel. On the 
same basis Messrs. Barrett Wendell, Santayana, 
Coolidge, and Baker have spoken at the Sor- 
bonne and at the other French Universities. 
This year Harvard has called me from the chair 
of English Literature at Princeton University, 
and the authorities of the Sorbonne have 
graciously accorded me the hospitality of this 
Amphitheatre RichelieUy to take my small part 
in this international mission. 

Do you ask for my credentials as an ambas- 
sador.^ Let me present my claims in simple 
and humble form. A family residence of two 
hundred and fifty years in America, whither my 
ancestors came from Holland in 1652; a work- 
ing life of thirty years as a preacher and teacher, 
which has taken me among all sorts and con- 
ditions of men, in almost all the states of the 
5 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

Union from Maine to Florida and from New 
York to California; a personal acquaintance 
with all the Presidents except one since Lin- 
coln; a friendship with many woodsmen, hunt- 
ers, and fishermen in the forests where I spend 
the summers; an entire independence of any 
kind of political, ecclesiastical, or academic par- 
tisanship; and some familiarity with American 
literature, its origins, and its historical relations, 
— these are all the claims that I can make to 
your attention. They are small enough, to be 
sure, but such* as they are you may find in them 
a partial explanation of the course which these 
lectures are to take. 

You will understand that if I have chosen a 
subject which is not strictly academic, it is be- 
cause the best part of my life has been spent 
out of doors among men. You will perceive 
that my failure to speak of Boston as the centre 
of the United States may have some connection 
with the accident that I am not a Bostonian. 
You will account for the absence of a suggestion 
that any one political party is the only hope of 
the Republic by the fact that I am not a poli- 
tician. You will detect in my attitude towards 
literature the naive conviction that it is not 
merely an art existing for art’s sake, but an ex- 
pression of the inner life and a factor in the 


INTRODUCTION 


moral character. Finally, you will conclude, 
with your French logicality of mind, that I 
must be an obstinate idealist, because I am 
going to venture to lecture to you on The Spirit 
of America, That is as much as to say that I 
believe man is led by an inner light, and that 
the ideals, moral convictions, and vital prin- 
ciples of a people are the most important fac- 
tors in their history. 

All these things are true. They cannot be 
denied or concealed. I would willingly confess 
them and a hundred more, if I might contribute 
but a little towards the purpose of these lec- 
tures: to help some of the people of France to 
understand more truly the real people of Amer-^ 
ica, — a people of idealists engaged in a great 
practical task. 


7 


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THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


^T^HERE is a proverb which affirms that in 
^ order to know a man you have only to 
travel with him for a week. Almost all of us 
have had experiences, sometimes happy and 
sometimes the reverse, which seem to confirm 
this saying. 

A journey in common is a sort of involuntary 
confessional. There is a certain excitement, a 
confusion and quickening of perceptions and 
sensations, in the adventures, the changes, the 
new and striking scenes of travel. The bonds 
of habit are loosened. Impulses of pleasure and 
of displeasure, suddenly felt, make themselves 
surprisingly visible. Wishes and appetites and 
prejudices which are usually dressed in a cos- 
tume of words so conventional as to amount to 
a disguise, now appear unmasked, and often in 
very scanty costume, as if they had been sud- 
denly called from their beds by an alarm of 
fire on a steamboat, or, to use a more agreeable 
figure, by the announcement in a hotel on the 
Righi of approaching sunrise. 

9 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


There is another thing which plays, perhaps, 
a part in this power of travel to make swift dis- 
closures. I mean the vague sense of release 
from duties and restraints which comes to one 
who is away from home. Much of the outward 
form of our daily conduct is regulated by the 
structure of the social machinery in which we 
quite inevitably find our place. But when all 
this is left behind, when a man no longer feels 
the pressure of the neighbouring wheels, the 
constraint of the driving-belt which makes them 
all move together, nor the restraint of the com- 
mon task to which the collective force of all is 
applied, he is ‘‘outside of the machine.” 

The ordinary sight-seeing, uncommercial 
traveller — the tourist, the globe-trotter — is not 
usually a person who thinks much of his own 
responsibilities, however conscious he may be 
of his own importance. His favourite proverb 
is, “When you are in Rome, do as the Romans 
do.” But in the application of the proverb, 
he does not always inquire whether the par- 
ticular thing which he is invited to do is done 
by the particular kind of Roman that he would 
like to be, if he lived in Rome, or by some other 
kind of Roman quite different, even contrary. 
He is liberated. He is unaccountable. He is a 
butterfly visiting a strange garden. He has only 
10 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


to enjoy himself according to his caprice and to 
accept the invitations of the flowers which please 
him most. 

This feeling of irresponsibility in travel corre- 
sponds somewhat to the effect of wine. The 
tongue is loosened. Unexpected qualities and 
inclinations are unconsciously confessed. A new 
man, hitherto unknown, appears upon the scene. 
And this new man often seems more natural, 
more spontaneous, more vivid, than our old ac- 
quaintance. ‘"At last,” we say to ourselves, 
“we know the true inwardness, the real reality 
of this fellow. He is not acting a part now. 
He is coming to the surface. We see what a 
bad fellow, or what a good fellow, he is. In 
vino et in viatore veritas /” 

But is it quite correct, after all, this first im- 
pression that travel is the great revealer of 
character.^ Is it the essential truth, the funda- 
mental truth, la vraie verite, that we discover 
through this glass Or is it, rather, a novel 
aspect of facts which are real enough, indeed, 
but not fundamental, — ^an aspect so novel that 
it presents itself as more important than it 
really is.^ To put the question in brief, and in 
a practical form, is a railway train the place 
to study character, or is it only a place to ob- 
serve characteristics ? 


11 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


There is, of course, a great deal of compli- 
cated and quarrelsome psychology involved in 
this seeming simple question, — ^for example, the 
point at issue between the determinists and 
libertarians, the philosophers of the unconscious 
and the philosophers of the ideal, — all of which 
I will prudently pass by, in order to make a 
very practical and common-sense observation. 

Ordinary travel obscures and confuses quite 
as much as it reveals in the character of the 
traveller. His excitement, his moral detach- 
ment, his intellectual dislocation, unless he is a 
person of extraordinary firmness and poise, are 
apt to make him lose himself much more than 
they help him to find himself. In these strange 
and transient experiences his action lacks mean- 
ing and relation. He is uprooted. He is car- 
ried away. He is swept along by the current 
of external novelty. This may be good for 
him or bad for him. I do not ask this question. 
I am not moralising. I am observing. The 
point is that under these conditions I do not 
see the real man more clearly, but less clearly. 
To paraphrase a Greek saying, I wish not to 
study Philip when he is exhilarated, but Philip 
when he is sober: not when he is at a Persian 
banquet, but when he is with his Macedonians. 

Moreover, if I mistake not, the native environ- 
12 


THE SOUL OP A PEOPLE 


ment, the chosen or accepted task, the definite 
place in the great world-work, is part of the 
man himself. There are no human atoms. Re- 
lation is inseparable from quality. Absolute 
isolation would be invisibility. Displacement 
is deformity. You remember what Emerson 
says in his poem. Each and All : — 

“ The delicate shells lay on the shore : 

The hubbies of the latest wave 
Fresh 'pearls to their enamel gave. 

And the bellowing of the savage sea 
Greeted their safe escape to me, 

I wiped away the weeds and foam, 

I fetched my sea-born treasures home. 

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 

Had left their beauty on the shore 

With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar,''^ 

So I prefer to see my man where he belongs, 
in the midst of the things which have produced 
him and which he has helped to produce. I 
would understand something of his relation to 
them. I would watch him at his work, the 
daily labour which not only earns his living but 
also moulds and forms his life. I would see 
how he takes hold of it, with reluctance or with 
alacrity, and how he regards it, with honour or 
with contempt. I would consider the way in 
13 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


which he uses its tangible results; to what pur- 
pose he applies them; for what objects he 
spends the fruit of his toil; what kind of bread 
he buys with the sweat of his brow or his brain. 
I would trace in his environment the influence 
of those who have gone before him. I would 
read the secrets of his heart in the uncompleted 
projects which he forms for those who are to 
come after him. In short, I would see the roots 
from which he springs, and the hopes in which 
his heart flowers. 

Thus, and thus only, the real man, the entire 
man, would become more clear to me. He 
might appear more or less admirable. I might 
like him more, or less. That would make no 
difference. The one thing sure is that I should 
know him better. I should know the soul of 
the man. 

If this is true, then, of the individual, how 
much more is it true of a nation, a people.^ 
The inward life, the real life, the animating and 
formative life of a people is infinitely diflBcult 
to discern and understand. 

There are a hundred concourses of travel in 
modern Europe where you may watch ‘Hhe 
passing show” of all nations with vast amuse- 
ment, — on the Cham'ps-Elysees in May or June, 
in the park of Aix-les-Bains in midsummer, at 
14 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


the Italian Lakes in autumn, in the colonnade 
of Shepherd’s Hotel in Cairo in January or 
February, on the Pincian Hill in Rome in March 
or April. Take your seats, ladies and gentle- 
men, at this continuous performance, this inter- 
national vaudeville^ and observe British habits, 
French manners, German customs, American 
eccentricities, whatever interests you in the 
varied entertainment. But do not imagine that 
in this way you will learn to know the national 
personality of England, or France, or Germany, 
or America. That is something which is never 
exported. 

Some drop of tincture or extract of it, indeed, 
may pass from one land to another in a distinct 
and concentrated individual, as when a La- 
fayette comes to America, or a Franklin to 
France. Some partial portrait and imperfect 
image of it may be produced in literature. And 
there the reader who is wise enough to separate 
the head-dress from the head, and to discern the 
figure beneath the costume, may trace at least 
some features of the real life represented and 
expressed in poem or romance, in essay or dis- 
course. But even this literature, in order to be 
vitally understood, must be interpreted in re- 
lation to the life of the men who have produced 
it and the men for whom it was produced. 

15 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Authors are not algebraic quantities, — x, y, 
z, &e. They express spiritual actions and re- 
actions in the midst of a given environment. 
What they write is in one sense a work of art, 
and therefore to be judged by the laws of that 
art. But when this judgment is made, when 
the book has been assigned its rank according 
to its substance, its structure, its style, there 
still remains another point of view from which 
it is to be considered. The book is a document 
of life. It is the embodiment of a spiritual pro- 
test, perhaps; or it is the unconscious confession 
of an intellectual ambition; or it is an appeal to 
some popular sentiment; or it is the expression 
of the craving for some particular form of 
beauty or joy; or it is a tribute to some per- 
sonal or social excellence; or it is the record of 
some vision of perfection seen in 

**The light that never was^ on sea or land. 
The consecration, and the poefs dream 

In every case, it is something that comes out 
of a heritage of ideals and adds to them. 

The possessor of this heritage is the soul of a 
people. This soul of a people lives at home. 

It is for this reason that America has been 
imperfectly understood, and in some respects 
positively misunderstood in Europe. The Amer- 
16 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


ican tourists, who have been numerous (and 
noticeable) on all the European highways of 
pleasure and byways of curiosity during the last 
forty years, have made a vivid impression on 
the people of the countries which they have 
visited. They are recognised. They are re- 
membered. It is not necessary to inquire 
whether this recognition contains more of ad- 
miration or of astonishment, whether the forms 
which it often takes are flattering or the reverse. 
On this point I am sufficiently American my- 
self to be largely indifferent. But the point on 
which I feel strongly is that the popular im- 
pression of America which is derived only or 
chiefly from the observation of American trav- 
ellers is, and must be, deflcient, superficial, and 
in many ways misleading. 

If this crowd of American travellers were a 
hundred times as numerous, it would still fail 
to be representative, it would still be unable to 
reveal the Spirit of America, just because it is 
composed of travellers. 

I grant you that it includes many, perhaps 
almost all, of the different types and varieties of 
Americans, good, bad, and mediocre. You will 
find in this crowd some very simple people and 
some very complicated people; country folk and 
city folk; strenuous souls who come to seek cid- 
17 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


ture and relaxed souls who come to spend money; 
millionnaires and school-teachers, saloon-keep- 
ers and university professors; men of the East 
and men of the West; Yankees, Knickerbock- 
ers, Hoosiers, Cavaliers, and Cowboys. Surely, 
you say, from such a large collection of samples 
one ought to be able to form an adequate 
judgment of the stuff. 

But no; on the contrary, the larger the col- 
lection of samples, seen under the detaching 
and exaggerating conditions of travel, the more 
confused and the less sane and penetrating your 
impression will be, unless by some other means 
you have obtained an idea of the vital origin, 
the true relation, the common inheritance, and 
the national unity of these strange and diverse 
travellers who come from beyond the sea. 

Understand, I do not mean to say that Eu- 
ropean scholars and critics have not studied 
American affairs and institutions to advantage 
and thrown a clear light of intelligence, of sym- 
pathy, of criticism, upon the history and life 
of the United States. A philosophical study 
like that of Tocqueville, a political study like 
that of Mr. James Bryce, a series of acute so- 
cial observations like those of M. Paul Bourget, 
M. Andre Tardieu, M. Paul Boutmy, M. Weil- 
ler, an industrial study like that of M. d’Avenel, 
or a religious study like that of the Abbe Klein, 
18 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


— these are of great value. But they are quite 
apart, quite diflFerent, from the popular impres- 
sion of America in Europe, an impression which 
is, and perhaps to some extent must naturally 
be, based upon the observations of Americans 
en voyage^ and which by some strange hypno- 
tism sometimes imposes itself for a while upon 
the American travellers themselves. 

I call this the international postal-card view 
of America. It is often amusing, occasionally 
irritating, and almost always confusing. It has 
flashes of truth in it. It renders certain details 
with the accuracy of a photographic camera. 
But, like a picture made by the camera, it has 
a deficient perspective and no atmosphere. 
The details do not fit together. They are ir- 
relevant. They are often contradictory. 

For example, you will hear statements made 
about America like the following: — 

"The Americans worship the Almighty Dollar 
more than the English revere the Ponderous 
Pound or the French adore the Flighty Franc. 
Per contra^ the Americans are foolish spend- 
thrifts who have no sense of the real value of 
money.’’ 

“America is a countiy without a social order. 
It is a house of one story, without partitions, in 
19 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


which all the inhabitants are on a level. Per 
contra, America is the place where class dis- 
tinctions are most sharply drawn, and where 
the rich are most widely and irreconcilably sepa- 
rated from the poor.” 

“The United States is a definite experiment 
in political theory, which was begim in 1776, 
and which has succeeded because of its phil- 
osophical truth and logical consistency. Per 
contra, the United States is an accident, a nation 
born of circumstances and held together by 
good fortune, without real unity or firm founda- 
tion.” 

“The American race is a new creation, abo- 
riginal, autochthonous, which ought to express 
itself in totally new and hitherto unheard-of 
forms of art and literature. Per contra, there is 
no American race, only a vast and absurd mix- 
ture of incongruous elements, cast off from 
Europe by various political convulsions, and 
combined by the pressure of events, not into a 
people, but into a mere population, which can 
never have a literature or an art of its own.” 

“America is a lawless land, where every one 
does what he likes and pays no attention to 
20 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


the opinion of his neighbour. Per contra^ Amer- 
ica is a land of prejudice, of interference, of re- 
striction, where personal liberty is constantly 
invaded by the tyranny of narrow ideas and tra- 
ditions, embodied in ridiculous laws which tell 
a man how many hours a day he may work, 
what he may drink, how he may amuse himself 
on Sunday, and how fast he may drive his 
automobile.’’ 

‘‘Finally, America is the home of materialism, 
a land of crude, practical worldliness, unimagi- 
native, irreverent, without religion. But per 
contra, America is the last refuge of superstition, 
of religious enthusiasm, of unenhghtened devo- 
tion, even of antique bigotry, a land of spiritual 
dreamers and fanatics, who, as Brillat-Savarin 
said, have ‘forty religions and only one sauce.’” 

Have I sharpened these contrasts and con- 
tradictions a little? Have I overaccented the 
inconsistencies in this picture postal-card view 
of America? 

Perhaps so. Yet it is impossible to deny that 
the main features of this incoherent view are 
familiar. We see the reflection of them in the 
singular choice and presentation of the rare 
items of American news which find their way 
21 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


into the columns of European newspapers. We 
recognise them in the talk of the street and of 
the table-d^hote. 

I remember very well the gravity and ear- 
nestness with which a learned German asked me, 
some years ago, whether, if he went to America, 
it would be a serious disadvantage to him in 
the first social circles to eat with his knife at 
the dinner-table. He was much relieved by 
my assurance that no one would take notice 
of it. 

I recall also the charming naivete with which 
an English lady inquired, ‘‘Have you any good 
writers in the States ? ” My answer was : “ None 
to speak of. We import most of our literature 
from Australia, by way of the Cape of Good 
Hope.’’ 

Sometimes we are asked whether we do not 
find it a great disadvantage to have no lan- 
guage of our own; or whether the justices of 
the Supreme Court are usually persons of good 
education; or whether we often meet Buffalo 
Bill in New York society; or whether Shake- 
speare or Bernard Shaw is most read in the 
States. To such inquiries we try to return 
polite answers, although our despair of convey- 
ing the truth sometimes leads us to clothe it 
in a humorous disguise. 

22 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


But these are minor matters. It is when we 
are seriously interrogated about the prospect of 
a hereditary nobility in America, created from 
the descendants of railway princes, oil magnates, 
and iron dukes; or when we are questioned as 
to the probability that the next President, or 
the one after the next, may assume an imperial 
state and crown, or perhaps that he may abol- 
ish the Constitution and establish communism; 
or when we are asked whether the Germans, or 
the Irish, or the Scandinavians, or the Jews are 
going to dominate the United States in the 
twentieth century; or when we are told that the 
industrial and commercial forces which created 
the republic are no longer cooperant but divi- 
sive, and that the nation must inevitably split 
into several fragments, more or less hostile, but 
certainly rival; it is when such questions are 
gravely asked, that we begin to feel that there 
are some grave misconceptions, or at least that 
there is something lacking, in the current notion 
of how America came into being and what 
America is. 

I believe that the thing which is lacking is the 
perception of the Spirit of America as the cre- 
ative force, the controlling power, the charac- 
teristic element of the United States. 

The republic is not an accident, happy or 
23 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


otherwise. It is not a fortuitous concourse of 
emigrants. It is not the logical demonstration 
of an abstract theory of government. It is the 
development of a life, — an inward life of ideals, 
sentiments, ruling passions, embodying itself in 
an outward life of forms, customs, institutions, 
relations, — a process as vital, as spontaneous, 
as inevitable, as the growth of a child into a 
man. The soul of a people has made the 
American nation. 

It is of this Spirit of America, in the past and 
in the present, and of some of its expressions, 
that I would speak in these conferences. I 
speak of it first in the past because I believe 
that we must know something of its origins, its 
early manifestations, its experiences, and its 
conflicts in order to understand what it truly 
signifies. 

The spirit of a people, like the spirit of a 
man, is influenced by heredity. But this hered- 
ity is not merely physical, it is spiritual. There 
is a transmission of qualities through the soul 
as well as through the flesh. There is an in- 
tellectual paternity. There is a kinship of the 
mind as well as of the body. The soul of the 
people in America to-day is the lineal descendant 
of the soul of the people which made America 
in the beginning. 


24 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


Just at what moment of time this soul came 
into being, I do not know. Some theologians 
teach that there is a certain point at which the 
hidden physical life of an infant receives a 
donum of spiritual life which makes it a person, 
a human being. I do not imagine that we can 
fix any such point in the conception and gesta- 
tion of a people. Certainly it would be diflScult 
to select any date of which we could say with 
assurance, ‘‘On that day, in that year, the 
exiles of England, of Scotland, of Holland, of 
France, of Germany, on the shores of the new 
world, became one folk, into which the Spirit 
of America entered.” But just as certainly it 
is clear that the mysterious event came to pass. 
And beyond a doubt the time of its occurrence 
was long before the traditional birthday of the 
republic, the 4th of July, 1776. 

The Declaration of Independence did not cre- 
ate — ^it did not even pretend to create — ^a new 
state of things. It simply recognised a state of 
things already existing. It declared “that these 
United Colonies arCy and of right ought to be, 
free and independent States.” 

The men who framed this declaration were 
not ignorant, nor careless in the use of words. 
When practically the same men were called, a 
few years later, to frame a constitution for the 
25 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


United States, they employed quite different 
language: “We, the people of the United States, 
... do ordain and establish this Constitution.” 
That is the language of creation. It assumes 
to bring into being something which did not 
previously exist. But the language of the Dec- 
laration of Independence is the language of 
recognition. It sets forth clearly a fact which 
has already come to pass, but which has hith- 
erto been ignored, neglected, or denied. 

What was that fact? Nothing else than the 
existence of a new people, separate, distinct, in- 
dependent, in the thirteen American colonies. 
At what moment in the troubled seventeenth 
century, age of European revolt and conflict, 
the spirit of liberty brooding upon the immense 
wilderness of the New World, engendered this 
new life, we cannot tell. At what moment in 
the philosophical eighteenth century, age of 
reason and reflection, this new life began to be 
self-conscious and to feel its way toward an or- 
ganic unity of powers and efforts, we cannot 
precisely determine. But the thing that is clear 
and significant is that independence existed be- 
fore it was declared. The soul of the American 
people was already living and conscious before 
the history of the United States began. 

I call this fact significant, immensely signifi- 
26 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


cant, because it marks not merely a verbal dis- 
tinction but an essential difference, a difference 
which is vital to the true comprehension of the 
American spirit in the past and in the present. 

A nation brought to birth by an act of vio- 
lence, if such a thing be possible, — or let us 
rather say, a nation achieving liberty by a sharp 
and sudden break with its own past and a com- 
plete overturning of its own traditions, will 
naturally carry with it the marks of such an 
origin. It will be inclined to extreme measures 
and methods. It will be particularly liable to 
counter-revolutions. It will often vibrate be- 
tween radicalism and reactionism. 

But a nation “conceived in liberty,” to use 
Lincoln’s glorious phrase, and pursuing its 
natural aims, not by the method of swift and 
forcible change, but by the method of normal 
and steady development, will be likely to have 
another temperament and a different history. 
It will at least endeavour to practice modera- 
tion, prudence, patience. It will try new ex- 
periments slowly. It will advance, not indeed 
without interruption, but with a large and tran- 
quil confidence that its security and progress 
are in accordance with the course of nature and 
the eternal laws of right reason. 

Now this is true in the main of the United 
27 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


States. And the reason for this large and 
tranquil confidence, at which Europeans some- 
times smile because it looks like bravado, and 
for this essentially conservative temper, at 
which Europeans sometimes wonder because it 
seems unsuitable to a democracy, — the reason, 
I think, is to be found in the history of the soul 
of the people. 

The American Revolution, to speak accu- 
rately and philosophically, was not a revolu- 
tion at all. It was a resistance. 

The Americans did not propose to conquer 
new rights and privileges, but to defend old ones. 

The claim of Washington and Adams and 
Franklin and Jefferson and Jay and Schuyler 
and Witherspoon was that the kings of England 
had established the colonies in certain liberties 
which the Parliament was endeavouring to take 
away. These liberties, the Americans asserted, 
belonged to them not only by natural right, but 
also by precedent and ancient tradition. The 
colonists claimed that the proposed reorganisa- 
tion of the colonies, which was undertaken by 
the British Parliament in 1763, was an inter- 
ruption of their history and a change in the 
established conditions of their life. They were 
unwilling to submit to it. ' They united and 
armed to prevent it. They took the position of 
28 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


men who were defending their inheritance of 
self-government against a war of subjugation 
disguised as a new scheme of imperial legisla- 
tion. 

Whether they were right or wrong in making 
this claim, whether the arguments by which 
they supported it were sound or sophistical, we 
need not now consider. For the present, the 
point is that the claim was made, and that the 
making of it is one of the earliest and clearest 
revelations of the Spirit of America. 

No doubt in that struggle of defence which 
we are wont to call, for want of a better name, 
the Revolution, the colonists were carried by 
the irresistible force of events far beyond this 
position. The privilege of self-government 
which they claimed, the principle of “no taxa- 
tion without representation,’’ appeared to them, 
at last, defensible and practicable only on the 
condition of absolute separation from Great 
Britain. This separation implied sovereignty. 
This sovereignty demanded union. This union, 
by the logic of events, took the form of a re- 
public. This republic continues to exist and 
to develop along the normal lines of its own 
nature, because it is still animated and con- 
trolled by the same Spirit of America which 
brought it into being. 


29 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


I am quite sure that there are few, even 
among Americans, who appreciate the literal 
truth and the full meaning of this last state- 
ment. It is common to assume that ‘‘the 
Spirit of 1776” is an aflFair of the past; that the 
native American stock is swallowed up and lost 
in our mixed population; and that the new 
United States, beginning, let us say, at the 
close of the Civil War, is now controlled and 
guided by forces which have come to it from 
without. This is not true even physically, 
much less is it true intellectually and mor- 
ally. 

The blended strains of blood which made the 
American people in the beginning are still the 
dominant factors in the American people of 
to-day. Men of distinction in science, art, and 
statesmanship have come from abroad to cast 
their fortunes in with the republic, — ^men like 
Gallatin and Agassiz and Guyot and Lieber and 
McCosh and Carl Schurz, — ^and their presence 
has been welcomed, their service received with 
honour. Of the total population of the United 
States in 1900 more than 34 per cent were of 
foreign birth or parentage. But the native 
stock has led and still leads America. 

There is a popular cyclopaedia of names, called 
Whx/s Who in Americay which contains brief 
30 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


biographies of some 16,395 living persons, who 
are supposed to be more or less distinguished, 
in one way or another, in the various regions 
in which they live. It includes the represen- 
tatives of foreign governments in the United 
States, and some foreign authors and business 
men. It is not necessary to imagine that all 
who are admitted to this quasi-golden book of 
“Who’s-who-dom” are really great or widely 
famous. There are perhaps many of whom 
we might inquire. Which is who, and why is 
he somewhat ? But, after all, the book includes 
most of the successful lawyers, doctors, mer- 
chants, bankers, preachers, politicians, authors, 
artists, and teachers, — the people who are most 
influential in their local communities and best 
known to their fellow-citizens. The noteworthy 
fact is that 86.07 per cent are native Americans. 
I think that a careful examination of the record 
would show that a very large majority have at 
least three generations of American ancestry on 
one side or the other of the family. 

Of the men elected to the presidency of the 
United States there has been only one whose 
ancestors were not in America before the Revo- 
lution, — ^James Buchanan, whose father was a 
Scotch-Irish preacher who came to the New 
World in 1783. All but four of the Presidents 
31 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


of the United States could trace their line back 
to Americans of the seventeenth century. 

But it is not upon these striking facts of 
physical heredity that I would rest my idea of 
an American people, distinct and continuous, 
beginning a conscious life at some time ante- 
cedent to 1764 and still guiding the develop- 
ment of the United States. I would lay far 
more stress upon intellectual and spiritual 
heredity, that strange process of moral genera- 
tion by which the qualities of the Spirit of 
America have been communicated to millions 
of immigrants from all parts of the world. 

Since 1820 about twenty-six million persons 
have come to the United States from foreign 
lands. At the present moment, in a population 
which is estimated at about ninety millions, 
there are probably between thirteen and fifteen 
millions who are foreign-bom. It is an im- 
mense quantity for any nation to digest and 
assimilate, and it must be confessed that there 
are occasional signs of local dyspepsia in the 
large cities. But none the less it may be con- 
fidently affirmed that the foreign immigration 
of the past has been transformed into Amer- 
ican material, and that the immigration of the 
present is passing through the same process 
without any alarming interruption. 

I can take you into quarters of New York 
32 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


where you might think yourself in a Russian 
Ghetto, or into regions of Pennsylvania which 
would seem to you like Hungarian mining 
towns. But if you will come with me into the 
public schools, where the children of these 
people of the Old World are gathered for edu- 
cation, you will find yourself in the midst of 
fairly intelligent and patriotic young Amer- 
icans. They will salute the flag for you with 
enthusiasm. They will sing ‘‘Columbia’’ and 
“The Star Spangled Banner” with more vigour 
than harmony. They will declaim Webster’s 
apostrophe to the Union, or cry with Patrick 
Henry, “Give me liberty or give me death.” 

What is more, they will really feel, in some 
dim but none the less vital way, the ideals for 
which these symbols stand. Give them time, 
and their inward allegiance will become clearer, 
they will begin to perceive how and why they 
are Americans. They will be among those wise 
children who know their own spiritual fathers. 

Last June it fell to my lot to deliver the com- 
mencement address at the College of the City 
of New York, a free institution which is the 
crown of the public school system of the city. 
Only a very small proportion of the scholars 
had names that you could call American, or 
even Anglo-Saxon. They were French and 
German, Polish and Italian, Russian and He- 
33 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


brew. Yet as I spoke on the subject of citizen- 
ship, suggested by the recent death of that 
great American, ex-President Grover Cleveland, 
the response was intelligent, immediate, unani- 
mous, and eager. There was not one of that 
crowd of young men who would have denied 
or surrendered his right to trace his patriotic 
ancestry, his inherited share in the Spirit of 
America, back to Lincoln and Webster, Madi- 
son and JeflFerson, Franklin and Washington. 

Here, then, is the proposition to which I 
dedicate these conferences. 

There is now, and there has been since before 
the Revolution, a Spirit of America, the soul 
of a people, and it is this which has made the 
United States and which still animates and 
controls them. 

I shall try to distinguish and describe a few, 
four or five of the essential features, qualities, 
ideals, — call them what you will, — the main 
elements of that spirit as I understand it. I 
shall also speak of two or three other traits, 
matters of temperament, perhaps, more than 
of character, which seem to me distinctly Amer- 
ican. Then because I am neither a politician 
nor a jurist, I shall pass from the important 
field of civil government and national institu- 
tions, to consider some of the ways in which 
34 


THE SOUL OF A PEOPLE 


this soul of the American people has expressed 
itself in education and in social effort and in 
literature. 

In following this course I venture to hope 
that it may be possible to correct, or at least 
to modify, some of the inaccuracies and incon- 
sistencies in the popular view of America which 
prevails in some quarters of Europe. Perhaps 
I may be able to suggest, even to Americans, 
some of the real sources of our national unity 
and strength. 

Amerwaiuy^ says Andre Tardieu, in his 
recent book, est toujours plus proche qu^on ne 
croit d^un contradicteur Americain.’’ 

Why 

That is what I hope to show in these lectures. 
I do not propose to argue for any creed, nor to 
win converts for any political theory. In these 
conferences I am not a propagandist, nor a 
preacher, nor an advocate. Not even a pro- 
fessor, strictly speaking. Just a man from 
America who is trying to make you feel the real 
spirit of his country, first in her life, then in 
her literature. I should be glad if in the end 
you might be able to modify the ancient proverb 
a little and say. Tout comprendre, c*est un peu 
aimer. 


35 


II 

SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


rpHE other day I came upon a book with a 
title which seemed to take a good ideal 
for granted: The New American Type. 

The author began with a description of a 
recent exhibition of portraits in New York, 
including pictures of the eighteenth, nineteenth, 
and twentieth centuries. He was impressed 
with the idea that ‘‘an astonishing change had 
taken place in men and women between the 
time of President Washington and President 
McKinley; bodies, faces, thoughts, had all 
been transformed. One short stairway from 
the portraits of Reynolds to those of Sargent 
ushered in changes as if it had stretched from 
the first Pharaoh to the last Ptolemy.” From 
this interesting text the author went on into 
an acute and sparkling discussion of the differ- 
ent pictures and the personalities whom they 
presented, and so into an attempt to define 
the new type of American character which he 
inferred from the modern portraits. 

Now it had been my good fortune, only a 
little while before, to see another exhibition of 
36 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


pictures which made upon my mind a directly 
contrary impression. This was not a collection 
of paintings, but a show of living pictures: a 
Twelfth Night celebration, in costume, at the 
Century Club in New York. Four or five hun- 
dred of the best-known and most infiuential 
men in the metropolis of America had arrayed 
themselves in the habiliments of various lands 
and ages for an evening of fun and frolic. There 
were travellers and explorers who had brought 
home the robes of the Orient. There were men 
of exuberant fancy who had made themselves 
up as Roman senators or Spanish toreadors or 
Provencal troubadours. But most of the cos- 
tumes were English or Dutch or French of the 
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The 
astonishing thing was that the men who wore 
them might easily have been taken for their own 
grandfathers or great-grandfathers. 

There was a Puritan who might have fled 
from the oppressions of Archbishop Laud, a 
Cavalier who might have sought a refuge from 
the severities of Cromwell’s Parliament, a Hu- 
guenot who might have escaped from the 
pressing attentions of Louis XIV in the Dragon- 
nades, a Dutch burgher who might have sailed 
from Amsterdam in the Goede Vrouw, There 
were soldiers of the Colonial army and mem- 
37 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


bers of the Continental Congress who might 
have been painted by Copley or Stuart or 
Trumbull or Peale. 

The types of the faces were not essentially 
diflferent. There was the same strength of bony 
structure, the same firmness of outline, the same 
expression of self-reliance, varying from the 
tranquillity of the quiet temperament to the 
turbulence of the stormy temperament. They 
looked like men who were able to take care of 
themselves, who knew what they wanted, and 
who would be likely to get it. They had the 
veritable air and expression of their ancestors 
of one or two hundred years ago. And yet, as 
a matter of fact, they were intensely modern 
Americans, typical New Yorkers of the twen- 
tieth century. 

Refiecting upon this interesting and rather 
pleasant experience, I was convinced that the 
author of The New American Type had allowed 
his imagination to run away with his judgment. 
No such general and fundamental change as he 
describes has really taken place. There have 
been modifications and developments and de- 
generations, of course, under the new conditions 
and influences of modern life. There have been 
also great changes of fashion and dress, — the 
wearing of mustaches and beards, — the discard- 
38 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


ing of wigs and ruflSes, — the sacrifice of a some- 
what fantastic elegance to a rather monotonous 
comfort in the ordinary costume of men. These 
things have confused and misled my ingenious 
author. 

He has been bewildered also by the alteration 
in the methods of portraiture. He has mistaken 
a change in the art of the painters for a change 
in the character of their subjects. It is a well- 
known fact that something comes into a por- 
trait from the place and the manner in which it 
is made. I have a collection of pictures of 
Charles Dickens, and it is interesting to observe 
how the Scotch ones make him look a little like 
a Scotchman, and the London ones make him 
look intensely English, and the American ones 
give him a touch of Broadway in 1845, and the 
photographs made in Paris have an unmistaka- 
ble suggestion of the Boulevards. There is a 
great difference between the spirit and method 
of Reynolds, Hoppner, Latour, Vanloo, and 
those of Sargent, Holl, Duran, Bonnat, Alex- 
ander, and Zorn. It is this difference that helps 
to conceal the essential likeness of their sitters. 

I was intimately acquainted with Benjamin 
Franklin’s great-grandson, a surgeon in the 
American navy. Put a fur cap and knee 
breeches on him, and he might easily have sat 
39 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


for his great-grandfather’s portrait. In char- 
acter there was a still closer resemblance. You 
can see the same faces at any banquet in New 
York to-day that Rembrandt has depicted in 
his "‘Night-Watch,” or Franz Hals in his “Ban- 
quet of the Civic Guard.” 

But there is something which interests me 
even more than this persistence of visible an- 
cestral features in the Americans of to-day. It 
is the continuance from generation to genera- 
tion of the main lines, the essential elements, of 
that American character which came into being 
on the Western continent. 

It is commonly assumed that this character 
is composite, that the people who inhabit 
America are a mosaic, made up of fragments 
brought from various lands and put together 
rather at haphazard and in a curious pattern. 
This assumption misses the inward verity by 
dwelling too much upon the outward fact. 

Undoubtedly there were large and striking 
differences between the grave and strict Puri- 
tans who peopled the shores of Massachusetts 
Bay, the pleasure-loving Cavaliers who made 
their tobacco plantations in Virginia, the liberal 
and comfortable Hollanders who took posses- 
sion of the lands along the Hudson, the skilful 
and industrious Frenchmen who came from old 
40 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


Rochelle to New Rochelle, the peaceful and 
prudent Quakers who followed William Penn, 
the stolid Germans of the Rhine who made their 
farms along the Susquehanna, the vigorous and 
‘aggressive Scotch-Irish Presbyterians who be- 
came the pioneers of western Pennsylvania and 
North Carolina, the tolerant Catholics who fled 
from English persecution to Lord Baltimore’s 
Maryland. But these outward differences of 
speech, of dress, of habits, of tradition, were, 
after all, of less practical consequence than the 
inward resemblances and sympathies of spirit 
which brought these men of different stocks to- 
gether as one people. 

They were not a composite people, but a 
blended people. They became in large measure 
conscious of the same aims, loyal to the same 
ideals, and capable of fighting and working 
together as Americans to achieve their des- 
tiny. 

I suppose that the natural process of inter- 
marriage played an important part in this 
blending of races. This is an affair to which the 
conditions of life in a new country, on the fron- 
tiers of civilization, are peculiarly favourable. 
Love flourishes when there are no locksmiths. 
In a community of exiles the inclinations of the 
young men towards the young women easily 
41 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


overstep the barriers of language and descent. 
Quite naturally the English and Scotch were 
united with the Dutch and French in the holy 
state of matrimony, and the mothers had as 
much to do as the fathers with the character- 
building of the children. 

But apart from this natural process of com- 
bination there were other influences at work 
bringing the colonists into unity. There was the 
pressure of a common necessity — the necessity 
of taking care of themselves, of making their own 
living in a hard, new world. There was the 
pressure of a common danger — the danger from 
the fierce and treacherous savages who sur- 
rounded them and continually threatened them 
with pillage and slaughter. There was the pres- 
sure of a common discipline — the discipline of 
building up an organised industry, a civilized 
community in the wilderness. 

Yet I doubt whether even these potent forces 
of compression, of fusion, of metamorphosis, 
would have made one people of the colonists 
quite so quickly, quite so thoroughly, if it had 
not been for certain aflSnities of spirit, certain 
ideals and purposes which influenced them all, 
and which made the blending easier and more 
complete. 

Many of the colonists of the seventeenth cen- 
42 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


tury, you will observe, were people who in one 
way or another had suffered for their religious 
convictions, whether they were Puritans or 
Catholics, Episcopalians or Presbyterians, Quak- 
ers or Anabaptists. 

The almost invariable effect of suffering for 
religion is to deepen its power and to intensify 
the desire for liberty to practice it. 

It is true that other motives, the love of ad- 
venture, the desire to attain prosperity in the 
affairs of this world, and in some cases the wish 
to escape from the consequences of misconduct 
or misfortune in the old country, played a part 
in the settlement of America. Nothing could be 
more absurd than the complacent assumption 
that all the ancestors from whom the ‘‘Colonial 
Dames” or the “Sons of the Revolution” de- 
light to trace their descent were persons of dis- 
tinguished character and fervent piety. 

But the most characteristic element of the 
early emigration was religious, and that not by 
convention and conformity, but by conscience 
and conviction. There was less difference 
among the various colonies in this respect than 
is generally imagined. The New Englanders, 
who have written most of the American his- 
tories, have been in the way of claiming the 
lion’s share of the religious influence for the 
43 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Puritans. The claim is too exclusive. Massa- 
chusetts was a religious colony with commercial 
tendencies, New Amsterdam was a commercial 
colony with religious principles. 

The Virginia parson prayed by the book, and 
the Pennsylvania Quaker made silence the most 
important part of his ritual, but alike on the 
banks of the James and on the shores of the 
Delaware the ultimate significance and value of 
life were interpreted in terms of religion. 

Now one immediate effect of such a ground- 
tone of existence is to increase susceptibility and 
devotion to ideals. The habit of referring con- 
stantly to religious sanctions is one that carries 
with it a tendency to intensify the whole mo- 
tive power of life in relation to its inward con- 
ceptions of what is right and desirable. Men 
growing up in such an atmosphere may easily 
become fanatical, but they are not likely to be 
feeble. 

Moreover, the American colonists, by the 
very conditions of natural selection which 
brought them together, must have included 
more than the usual proportion of strong wills, 
resolute and independent characters, people who 
knew what they wanted to do and were willing 
to accept needful risks and hardships in order 
to do it. The same thing, at least to some ex- 
44 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


tent, holds good of the later immigration into 
the United States. 

Most of the early immigrants were rich in 
personal energy, clear in their conviction of 
what was best for them to do. Otherwise they 
would have lacked the force to break old ties, 
to brave the sea, to face the loneliness and un- 
certainty of life in a strange land. Discontent 
with their former condition acted upon them 
not as a depressant but as a tonic. The hope 
of something unseen, untried, was a stimulus 
to which their wills reacted. Whatever mis- 
givings or reluctances they may have had, upon 
the whole they were more attracted than re- 
pelled by the prospect of shaping a new life 
for themselves, according to their own de- 
sire, in a land of liberty, opportunity, and diffi- 
culty. 

We come thus to the first and most potent 
factor in the soul of the American people, the 
spirit of self-reliance. This was the dominant 
and formative factor of their early history. 
It was the inward power which animated and 
sustained them in their first struggles and ef- 
forts. It was deepened by religious conviction 
and intensified by practical experience. It took 
shape in political institutions, declarations, con- 
stitutions. It rejected foreign guidance and 
45 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


control, and fought against external domination. 
It assumed the right of self-determination, and 
took for granted the power of self-development. 
In the ignorant and noisy it was aggressive, 
independent, cocksure, and boastful. In the 
thoughtful and prudent it was grave, firm, 
resolute, and inflexible. It has persisted through 
all the changes and growth of two centuries, 
and it remains to-day the most vital and irre- 
ducible quality in the soul of America , — the 
spirit of self-reliance. 

You may hear it in Its popular and somewhat 
vulgar form — ^not without a characteristic touch 
of humour — in the Yankee’s answer to the inti- 
mation of an Englishman that if the United 
States did not behave themselves well, Great 
Britain would come over and whip them. 
“What!” said the Yankee, “ag’in.f^” You may 
hear it in deeper, saner, wiser tones, in Lin- 
coln’s noble asseveration on the battle-field of 
Gettysburg, that “government of the people, 
by the people, for the people shall not perish 
from the earth.” But however or whenever 
you hear it, the thing which it utters is the 
same, — the inward conviction of a people that 
they have the right and the ability, and con- 
sequently the duty, to regulate their own life, 
to direct their own affairs, and to pursue their 
46 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


own happiness according to the light which 
they possess. 

It is obvious that one may give different 
names to this spirit, according to the circum- 
stances in which it is manifested and observed. 
It may be called the spirit of independence when 
it is shown in opposition to forces of external 
control. Professor Barrett Wendell, speaking 
from this chair four years ago, said that the 
first ideal to take form in the American con- 
sciousness was ‘‘the ideal of Liberty.” But his 
well-balanced mind compelled him immediately 
to limit and define this ideal as a desire for “the 
political freedom of America from all control, 
from all coercion, from all interference by any 
power foreign to our own American selves.” 
And what is this but self-reliance.^ This is a 
little more than Liberty. 

Professor Mtinsterberg, in his book. The 
Americans^ calls it “the spirit of self-direction.” 
He traces its influence in the development of 
American institutions and the structure of 
American life. He says: “Whoever wishes to 
understand the secret of that baffling turmoil, 
the inner mechanism and motive behind all the 
politically effective forces, must set out from 
only one point. He must appreciate the yearn- 
ing of the American heart after self-direc- 
47 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

tion. Everything else is to be understood from 
this.” 

But this yearning after self-dtVedion, it seems 
to me, is not peculiar to Americans. All men 
have more or less of it by nature. All men yearn 
to be their own masters, to shape their own 
life, to direct their own course. The difference 
among men lies in the clearness and the vigour 
with which they conceive their own right and 
fower and duty so to do. 

Back of the temper of independence, back of 
the passion for liberty, back of the yearning 
after self-direction, stands the spirit of self- 
reliance, from which alone they derive force 
and permanence. It was this spirit that made 
America, and it is this spirit that preserves the 
republic. Emerson has expressed it in a sen- 
tence: “We will walk on our own feet; we will 
work with our own hands; we will speak our 
own minds.” 

It may be true that the largest influence in 
the development of this spirit came from the 
Puritans and Pilgrims of the New England 
colonies, bred under the bracing and strength- 
ening power of that creed which bears the name 
of a great Frenchman, John Calvin, and trained 
in that tremendous sense of personal respon- 
sibility which so often carries with it an intense 
48 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


feeling of personal value and force. Yet, after 
all, if we look at the matter closely, we shall 
see that there was no very great difference 
among the colonists of various stocks and re- 
gions in regard to their confidence in themselves 
and their feeling that they both could and 
should direct their own affairs. 

The Virginians, languishing and fretting under 
the first arbitrary rule of the London corpora- 
tion which controlled them with military sever- 
ity, obtained a ‘‘Great Charter of Privileges, 
Orders, and Laws’’ in 1618. This gave to the 
little body of settlers, about a thousand in num- 
ber, the right of electing their own legislative 
assembly, and thus laid the foundation of rep- 
resentative government in the New World. A 
little later, in 1623, fearing that the former 
despotism might be renewed, the Virginia As- 
sembly sent a message to the king, saying, 
“Rather than be reduced to live under the like 
government, we desire his Majesty that com- 
missioners be sent over to hang us.” 

In 1624 the Virginia Company was dissolved, 
and the colony passed under a royal charter, 
but they still preserved and cherished the rights 
of self-rule in all local affairs, and developed an 
extraordinary temper of jealousy and resistance 
towards the real or imagined encroachments of 
49 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the governors who were sent out by the king. 
In 1676 the Virginians practically rebelled 
against the authority of Great Britain because 
they conceived that they were being reduced 
to a condition of dependence and servitude. 
They felt confident that they were able to 
make their own laws and to choose their own 
leaders. They were distinctly not conscious of 
any inferiority to their brethren in England, 
and with their somewhat aristocratic tendencies 
they developed a set of men like Lee and Henry 
and Washington and Bland and Jefferson and 
Harrison, who had more real power than any 
of the royal governors. 

In New Amsterdam, where the most liberal 
policy in regard to the reception of immigrants 
prevailed, but where for a long time there was 
little or no semblance of popular government, 
the inhabitants rebelled in 1649 against the 
tyranny of the agents of the Dutch West India 
Company which ruled them from across the sea, 
— ^ruled them fairly well, upon the whole, but 
still denied free play to their spirit of self-re- 
liance. The confiicts between the bibulous and 
dubious Director van Twiller and his neigh- 
bours, between the fiery and arbitrary William 
Kieft and his Eight Men, between the valiant, 
obstinate, hot-tempered, and dictatorial Peter 
50 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


Stuyvesant and his Nine Men, have been 
humorously narrated by Washington Irving in 
his Knickerbocker History, But underneath the 
burlesque chronicle of bickerings and wran- 
glings, complaints and protests, it is easy to see 
the stirrings of the sturdy spirit which confides 
in self and desires to have control of its own 
affairs. 

In 1649 the Vertoogh or Remonstrance of the 
Seven Men representing the burghers of Man- 
hattan, Brewckelen, Amersfoort, and Pavonia 
was sent to the States General of the Nether- 
lands. It demanded first that their High Mighti- 
nesses should turn out the West India Company 
and take direct control of New Netherland; 
second, that a proper municipal government 
should be granted to New Amsterdam; and 
third, that the boundaries of the province 
should be settled by treaty with friendly powers. 
This document also called attention, by way of 
example, to the freedom of their neighbours in 
New England, ‘‘where neither patrouns, nor 
lords, nor princes are known, but only the peo- 
ple.” The West India Company was powerful 
enough to resist these demands for a time, but 
in 1653 New Amsterdam was incorporated as a 
city. 

Ten years later it passed under English sover- 
51 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


eignty, and the history of New York began. 
One of its first events was the protest of certain 
towns on Long Island against a tax which was 
laid upon them in order to pay for the repair 
of the fort in New York. They appealed to 
the principle of ‘‘no taxation without represen- 
tation/’ which they claimed had been declared 
alike by England and by the Dutch republic. 
For nearly twenty years, however, this appeal 
and others like it were disregarded, until at last 
the spirit of self-reliance became irresistible. A 
petition was sent to the Duke of York declar- 
ing that the lack of a representative assembly 
was “an intolerable grievance.” The Duke, it 
is said, was out of patience with his imeasy 
province, which brought him in no revenue ex- 
cept complaints and protests. “I have a mind 
to sell it,” said he, “to any one who will give 
me a fair price.” “What,” cried his friend 
William Penn, “sell New York! Don’t think 
of such a thing. Just give it self-government, 
and there will be no more trouble.” The Duke 
listened to the Quaker, and in 1683 the first 
Assembly of New York was elected. 

The charters which were granted by the Stuart 
kings to the American colonies were for the 
most part of an amazingly liberal character. 
No doubt the royal willingness to see restless 
52 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


and intractable subjects leave England had 
something to do with this liberality. But the 
immediate effect of it was to encourage the spirit 
of self-reliance. In some of the colonies, as in 
Connecticut and Rhode Island, the people 
elected their own governors as well as made 
their own laws. When Governor Fletcher of 
New York found the people of Connecticut un- 
willing to comply with his demands in 1693, he 
wrote back to England angrily: ‘‘The laws of 
England have no effect in this colony. They 
set up for a free state.” 

Even in those colonies where the governors 
and the judges were appointed by the crown, 
the people were quick to suspect and bitter to 
resent any invasion of their liberties or contra- 
diction of their will as expressed through the 
popular assemblies; and these assemblies pru- 
dently retained, as a check upon executive au- 
thority, the right of voting, and paying, or not 
paying, the salaries of the governor and other 
oflScers. 

The early policy of Great Britain in regard 
to the American colonies, while it vacillated 
somewhat, was, in the main, to leave them quite 
independent. Various motives may have played 
a part at different times in this policy. Indiffer- 
ence and a feeling of contempt may have had 
53 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


something to do with it. English liberalism and 
republican sympathy may have had something 
to do with it. A shrewd willingness to let them 
prosper by their own efforts, in their own way, 
in order that they might make a better market 
for English manufactures, may have had some- 
thing to do with it. Thus Lord Morley tells 
us: “Walpole was content with seeing that no 
trouble came from America. He left it to the 
Duke of Newcastle, and the Duke left it so 
much to itself that he had a closet full of des- 
patches from American governors, which had 
lain unopened for years.” 

But whatever may have been the causes of 
this policy, its effect was to intensify and spread 
the spirit of self-reliance among the people of 
America. A group of communities grew up 
along the western shore of the Atlantic which 
formed the habit of defending themselves, of 
developing their own resources, of regulating 
their own affairs. It has been well said that 
they were colonies only in the Greek sense: 
communities which went forth from the mother- 
country like children from a home, to establish 
a self-sustaining and equal life. They were not 
colonies in the Roman sense, suburbs of the 
empire, garrisoned and ruled from the sole 
centre of authority. 


54 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


They felt, all of them, that they understood 
their own needs, their own opportunities, their 
own duties, their own dangers and hopes, bet- 
ter than any one else could understand them. 
“Those who feel,” said Franklin, when he ap- 
peared before the committee of Parliament in 
London, “can best judge.” They issued money, 
they made laws and constitutions, they raised 
troops, they built roads, they established schools 
and colleges, they levied taxes, they developed 
commerce, — and this last they did to a consider- 
able extent in violation or evasion of the British 
laws of navigation. 

They acknowledged, indeed they fervently 
protested, for a long time, their allegiance to 
Great Britain and their loyalty to the crown; 
but they conceived their allegiance as one of 
equality, and their loyalty as a voluntary senti- 
ment largely influenced by gratitude for the 
protection which the king gave them in the rights 
of internal self-government. 

This self-reliant spirit extended from the col- 
onies into the townships and counties of which 
they were composed. Each little settlement, 
each flourishing village and small city, had its 
own local interests, and felt the wish and the 
ability to manage them. And in these communi- 
ties every man was apt to be conscious of his 
55 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

own importance, his own value, his own ability 
and right to contribute to the discussion and 
settlement of local problems. 

The conditions of life, also, had developed 
certain qualities in the colonists which persisted 
and led to a general temper of personal inde- 
pendence and self-confidence. The men who 
had cleared the forests, fought off the Indians, 
made homes in the wilderness, were inclined to 
think themselves capable de tout. They valued 
their freedom to prove this as their most precious 
asset. 

have some little property in America,’’ 
said Franklin. ‘T will freely spend nineteen 
shillings in the pound to defend the right of 
giving or refusing the other shilling; and, after 
all, if I cannot defend that right, I can retire 
cheerfully with my little family into the bound- 
less woods of America, which are sure to furnish 
freedom and subsistence to any man who can 
bait a hook or pull a trigger.” It is rather 
amusing to think of Franklin as gaining his 
living as a hunter or a fisherman; but no doubt 
he could have done it. 

The wonderful prosperity and the amazing 
growth of the colonies fostered this spirit of 
self-reliance. Their wealth was increasing more 
rapidly, in proportion, than the wealth of Eng- 
56 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


land. Their population grew from an original 
stock of perhaps a hundred thousand immigrants 
to two million in 1776, a twenty-fold advance; 
while in the same period of time England had 
only grown from five millions to eight millions, 
less than twofold. 

The conflicts with the French power in Can- 
ada also had a powerful influence in consoli- 
dating the colonies and teaching them their 
strength. The first Congress in which they 
were all invited to take part was called in New 
York in 1690 to cooperate in war measures 
against Canada. Three long, costly, and bloody 
French-Indian wars, in which the colonists felt 
they bore the brunt of the burden and the fight- 
ing, drew them closer together, made them con- 
scious of their common interests and of their 
resources. 

But their victory in the last of these wars 
had also another effect. It opened the way for 
a change of policy on the part of Great Britain 
towards her American colonies, — a change which 
involved their reorganisation, their subordina- 
tion to the authority of the British Parliament, 
and the ‘‘weaving” of them, as ex-Govemor 
Pownall put it, into “a grand marine dominion 
consisting of our possessions in the Atlantic and 
in America united into one empire, into one 
57 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

centre where the seat of government is.” This 
was undoubtedly Roman imperialism. And it 
was because the Americans felt this that the 
spirit of self-reliance rose against the new policy 
and stubbornly resisted every step, even the 
smallest, which seemed to them to lead in the 
direction of subjugation and dependency. 

Followed ten years of acrimonious and violent 
controversy and eight years of war, — about 
what ? The Stamp Act ? the Paint, Paper, and 
Glass Act.^ the Tax on Tea.^^ the Boston Port 
Bill.^ No; but at bottom about the right and 
intention of the colonies to continue to direct 
themselves. You cannot possibly understand 
the American Revolution unless you under- 
stand this. And without an understanding of 
the causes and the nature of the Revolution, 
you cannot comprehend the United States of 
to-day. 

Take, for example, the division of opinion 
among the colonists themselves, — a division far 
more serious and far more nearly equal in num- 
bers than is commonly supposed. It was not 
true, as the popular histories of the Revolution 
used to assume, that all the brave, the wise, 
the virtuous, and the honest were on one side, 
and all the cowardly, the selfish, the base, and 
the insincere were on the other. There was 
58 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


probably as much sincerity and virtue among 
the loyalists as among the patriots. There was 
certainly as much intelligence and education 
among the patriots as among the loyalists. 
The difference was this. The loyalists were, 
for the most part, families and individuals who 
had been connected, socially and industrially, 
with the royal source of power and order, 
through the governors and other officials who 
came from England or were appointed there. 
Naturally they felt that the protection, guid- 
ance, and support of England were indispensable 
to the colonies. The patriots were, for the most 
part, families and individuals whose intimate 
relations had been with the colonial assemblies, 
with the popular efforts for self-development 
and self-rule, with the movements which tended 
to strengthen their confidence in their own 
powers. Naturally they felt that freedom of 
action, deliverance from external control, and 
the fullest opportunity of self-guidance were 
indispensable to the colonies. 

The names chosen by the two parties — ‘"loyal- 
ist” and “patriot” — were both honourable, and 
seem at first sight almost synonymous. But 
there is a delicate shade of difference in their 
inward significance. The loyalist is one who 
sincerely owns allegiance to a sovereign power, 
59 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


which may he external to him^ but to which he 
feels bound to be loyal. The patriot is one who 
has found his own country, of which he is a party 
and for which he is willing to live and die. It 
was because the patriotic party appealed prima- 
rily to the spirit of self-reliance that they carried 
the majority of the American people with them, 
and won the victory, not only in the internal 
conflict, but also in the war of independence. 

I am not ignorant nor unmindful of the part 
which European philosophers and political theo- 
rists played in supplying the patriotic party in 
America with logical arguments and philosophic 
reasons for the practical course which they fol- 
lowed. The doctrines of John Locke and Al- 
gernon Sidney were congenial and sustaining 
to men who had already resolved to govern 
themselves. From Holland aid and comfort 
came in the works of Grotius. Italy gave in- 
spiration and support in the books of Beccaria 
and Burlamaqui on the essential principles of 
liberty. The French intellect, already prepar- 
ing for another revolution, did much to clarify 
and rationalise American thought through the 
sober and searching writings of Montesquieu, 
and perhaps even more to supply it with enthu- 
siastic eloquence through the dithyrambic theo- 
ries of Rousseau. The doctrines of natural law, 
60 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


and the rights of man, and the pursuit of hap- 
piness, were freely used by the patriotic orators 
to enforce their appeals to the people. It is 
impossible not to recognise the voice of the 
famous Genevese in the words of Alexander 
Hamilton: “The sacred rights of men are not 
to be rummaged for among old parchments or 
musty records. They are written as with a 
sunbeam in the whole volume of human nature 
by the hand of divinity itself, and can never be 
erased by mortal power.” 

But it still remains true that the mainspring 
of American independence is not to be found 
in any philosophic system or in any political 
theory. It was a vital impulse, a common senti- 
ment in the soul of a people conscious of the 
ability and the determination to manage their 
own affairs. The logic which they followed 
was the logic of events and results. They were 
pragmatists. The spirit of self-reliance led 
them on, reluctantly, inevitably, step by step, 
through remonstrance, recalcitrance, resistance, 
until they came to the republic. 

“Permit us to be as free as yourselves,” they 
said to the people of Great Britain, “and we 
shall ever esteem a union with you to be our 
greatest glory and our greatest happiness.” 
“No,” answered Parliament. “Protect us as a 
61 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


loving father,” they said to the king, ‘‘and 
forbid a licentious ministry any longer to riot 
in the ruins of mankind.” “No,” answered the 
king. “Very well, then,” said the colonists, 
“we are, and of right ought to be, free and in- 
dependent. We have governed ourselves. We 
are able to govern ourselves. We shall con- 
tinue to govern ourselves, under such forms as 
we already possess; and when these are not 
sufficient, we will make such forms as shall, in 
the o'pinion of the representatives of the people, 
best conduce to the happiness and safety of their 
constituents in particular and of America in gen- 
erair 

This resolution of the Continental Congress, 
on May 10, 1776, gives the key-note of all sub- 
sequent American history. Republicanism was 
not adopted because it was the only conceivable, 
or rational, or legitimate form of government. 
It was continued, enlarged, organised, consoli- 
dated, because it was the form in which the 
spirit of self-reliance in the whole people had 
already found itself most at home, most happy 
and secure. 

The federal Union of the States was estab- 
lished, after long and fierce argument, under the 
pressure of necessity, because it was evidently 
the only way to safeguard the permanence and 
6 ^ 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


freedom of those States, as well as to ‘"establish 
justice, ensure domestic tranquillity, provide for 
the common defence, promote the general wel- 
fare, and secure the blessings of liberty to our- 
selves and our posterity.” 

The Amendments to the Constitution which 
were adopted in 1791 (and without the promise 
of which the original document never would 
have been accepted) were of the nature of a 
Bill of Rights, securing to every citizen liberty 
of conscience and speech, protection against 
arbitrary arrest, imprisonment, or deprivation 
of property, and especially reserving to the 
respective States or to their people all powers 
not delegated to the United States. 

The division of the general government into 
three branches — legislative, executive, and ju- 
dicial; the strict delimitation of the powers 
committed to these three branches; the careful 
provision of checks and counterchecks intended 
to prevent the predominance of any one branch 
over the others: all these are features against 
which political theorists and philosophers may 
bring, and have brought, strong arguments. 
They hinder quick action; they open the way 
to contests of authority; they are often a serious 
drawback in diplomacy. But they express the 
purpose of a self-reliant people not to let the 
63 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


ultimate power pass from their hands to any 
one of the instruments which they have created. 
And for this purpose they have worked well, 
and are still in working order. For this reason 
the Americans are proud of them to a degree 
which other nations sometimes think unreason- 
able, and attached to them with a devotion 
which other nations do not always understand. 

Do not mistake me. In saying that Ameri- 
can republicanism is not the product of phil- 
osophical argument, of abstract theory, of rea- 
soned conviction, I do not mean to say that 
Americans do not believe in it. They do. 

Now and then you will find one of them who 
says that he would prefer a monarchy or an 
aristocracy. But you may be sure that he is 
an eccentric, or a man with a grievance against 
the custom-house, or a fond fool who feels con- 
fident of his own place in the royal family or 
at least in the nobility. You may safely leave 
him out in trying to understand the real Spirit 
of America. 

The people as a whole believe in the republic 
very firmly, and at times very passionately. 
And the vital reason for this belief is because it 
springs out of life and is rooted in life. It comes 
from that spirit of self-reliance which has been 
and is still the strongest American character- 
64 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


istic, in the individual, the commimity, and the 
nation. 

It seems to me that we must apprehend this 
in order to comprehend many things that are 
fundamental in the life of America and the char- 
acter of her people. Let me speak of a few of 
these things, and try to show how they have 
their roots in this quality of self-reliance. 

Take, for example, the singular political con- 
struction of the nation, — a thing which Eu- 
ropeans find it almost impossible to understand 
without a long residence in America. It is a 
united country composed of States which have 
a distinct individual life and a carefully guarded 
sovereignty. 

Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, Illinois, 
Texas, California, even the little States like 
Rhode Island and Maryland, are political en- 
tities just as real, just as conscious of their own 
being, as the United States, of which each of 
them forms an integral part. They have their 
own laws, their own courts, their own systems of 
domestic taxation, their own flags, their own 
militia, their own schools and universities. 
The daily life of an American citizen is mainly 
protected and regulated by the State in which 
he lives. 


65 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


This distinction of local life is not to be 
traced to an original allegiance to different own- 
ers or lords, a duke of Savoy or Burgundy, a 
king of Prussia or Saxony. It is quite unlike 
the difference among the provinces of the French 
Republic or the states of the German Empire. 
It is primarily the result of a local spirit of self- 
reliance, a habit of self-direction, in the people 
who have worked together to build up these 
States, to develop their resources, to give them 
shape and substance. This is the true explana- 
tion of State pride, and of the sense of an indi- 
vidual life in the different commonwealths which 
compose the nation. 

Every one knows that this feeling was so 
strong immediately after the Revolution that 
it nearly made the Union impossible. Every 
one knows that this feeling was so strong in 
the middle of the nineteenth century that it 
nearly destroyed the Union. But every one 
does not know that this feeling is still extant 
and active, — an essential and potent factor in 
the political life of America. 

The Civil War settled once for all the open 
and long-disputed question of the nature of the 
tie which binds the States together. The Union 
may be a compact, but it is an indissoluble 
compact. The United States is not a con- 
66 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


federacy. It is a nation. Yet the local sover- 
eignty of the States which it embraces has not 
been touched. The spirit of self-reliance in 
each commonwealth guards its rights jealously, 
and the law of the nation protects them. 

It was but a little while ago that a proposal 
was made in Congress to unite the Territories 
of Arizona and New Mexico and admit them 
to the Union as one State. But the people of 
Arizona protested. They did not wish to be 
mixed up with people of New Mexico, for whom 
they professed dislike and even contempt. 
They would rather stay out than come in under 
such conditions. The protest was suflScient to 
block the proposed action. 

I have been reading lately a series of recent 
decisions by the Supreme Court, touching on 
various questions, like the right of one State to 
make the C.O.D. shipment of whiskey from 
another State a penal offence, or the right of 
the United States to interfere with the State of 
Colorado in the use of the water of the Ar- 
kansas River for purposes of irrigation. In all 
of these decisions, whether on whiskey or on 
water, I find that the great principle laid down 
by Chief Justice Marshall is clearly admitted 
and sustained: ‘‘The Government of the United 
States is one of enumerated powers.” Further 
67 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


powers can be obtained only by a new grant 
from the people. “One cardinal rule/’ says 
Justice Brewer, “underlying all the relations of 
the States to each other is that of equality of 
right. Each State stands on the same level 
with all the rest. It can impose its own legisla- 
tion on none of the others, and is bound to yield 
its own views to none.” 

Now it is evident that this peculiar structure 
of the nation necessarily permits, perhaps im- 
plies, a constant rivalry between two forms of the 
spirit of self-reliance, — the local form and the 
general form. 

Emphasise the one, and you have a body of 
public opinion which moves in the direction of 
strengthening, enhancing, perhaps enlarging, the 
powers given to the central government. Em- 
phasise the other, and you have a body of public 
opinion which opposes every encroachment upon 
the powers reserved to the local governments, 
and seeks to strengthen the whole by fortifying 
the parts of which it is composed. 

Here you have the two great political parties 
of America. They are called to-day the Re- 
publican and the Democratic. But the names 
mean nothing. In fact, the party which now 
calls itself Democratic bore the name of Re- 
publican down to 1832; and those who were 
68 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


called successively Federalists and Whigs did 
not finally take the name of Republicans until 
1860. In reality, political opinion, or perhaps 
it would be more correct to say political feeling, 
divides on this great question of the centralisa- 
tion or the diffusion of power. The controversy 
lies between the two forms of the spirit of self- 
reliance : that which is embodied in the conscious- 
ness of the whole nation and that which is em- 
bodied in the consciousness of each community. 
The Democrats naturally speak for the latter; 
the Republicans for the former. 

Of course in our campaigns and elections the 
main issue is often confused and beclouded. 
New problems and disputes arise in which the 
bearing of proposed measures is not clear. 
The parties have come to be great physical 
organisations, with vested interests to defend, 
with an outward life to perpetuate. Like all 
human institutions, both of them have the in- 
stinct of self-preservation. They both try to 
follow the tide of popular sentiments. They 
both insert planks in their platforms which seem 
likely to win votes. Sometimes they both hit 
upon the same planks, and it is very diflScult 
to determine the original ownership. 

At present, for example, the great industrial 
and commercial trusts and corporations are very 
69 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


unpopular. The Democrats and the Repub- 
licans both declare their intention to correct 
and restrain them. Each party claims to be 
the original friend of the people, the real St. 
George who will certainly slay the Dragon of 
Trusts. Thus we have had the amusing spec- 
tacle of Mr. Bryan commending and praising 
Mr. Roosevelt for his conversion to truly Demo- 
cratic principles and policies, and adding that 
the Democrats were the right men to carry 
them out, while Mr. Taft insisted that the pop- 
ular measures were essentially Republican, and 
that his party was the only one which could be 
trusted to execute them wisely and safely. 

But, in spite of these temporary bewilder- 
ments, you will find, in the main, that the Re- 
publicans have a tendency towards centralising 
measures, and therefore incline to favour na- 
tional banks, a protective tariff, enlargement of 
executive functions, colonial expansion, a greater 
naval and military establishment, and a conse- 
quent increase of national expenditure; while 
the Democrats, as a rule, are on the side of 
non-centralising measures, and therefore in- 
clined to favour a large and elastic currency, 
free trade or tariff for revenue only, strict in- 
terpretation of the Constitution, an army and 
navy sufficient for police purposes, a progres- 
70 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


sive income tax, and a general policy of na- 
tional economy. 

The important thing to remember is that 
these two forms of the spirit of self-reliance, 
the general and the local, still exist side by side 
in American political life, and that it is prob- 
ably a good thing to have them represented in 
two great parties, in order that a due balance 
may be kept between them. 

The tendency to centralisation has been in 
the lead, undoubtedly, dming the last forty 
years. It is in accord with what is called the 
spirit of the age. But the other tendency is 
still deep and strong in America, — stronger I 
believe than anywhere else in the world. The 
most valuable rights of the citizen (except in 
Territories and colonies), his personal freedom, 
family relations, and property, are still pro- 
tected mainly by the State in which he lives 
and of which he is a member, — a State which 
is politically unknown to any foreign nation, 
and which exists only for the other States which 
are united with it ! 

A curious condition of affairs ! Yet it is real. 
It is historically accountable. It belongs to 
the Spirit of America. For the people of that 
country think with Tocqueville that ‘‘Those 
who dread the license of the mob, and those 
71 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


who fear absolute power, ought alike to desire 
the gradual development of provincial liber- 
ties/’ 

This is the way in which America was made. 
This is how Americans wish to keep it. An 
attempt of either party in power to destroy the 
principle for which the other stands would cer- 
tainly fail. The day when it seemed possible 
to dissolve the Union is past. The day when 
the Union will absorb and obliterate the States 
is not in sight. 

But it is not only in this relation of the States 
and the nation that you may see the workings of 
the spirit of which I am speaking. Within each 
State the spirit of self-reliance is developed and 
cherished in city, county, and township. Public 
improvements, roads and streets, police, edu- 
cation, — these are the important things which, 
as a rule, the State leaves to the local com- 
munity. The city, the county, the township, 
attend to them. They must be paid for out of 
the local pocket. And the local talent of the 
citizens feels able and entitled to regulate them. 
Sometimes it is well done. Sometimes it is very 
badly done. But the doing of it is a privilege 
which a self-reliant people would be loath to 
resign. 

Each man wishes to have his share in the 
72 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


discussion. The habit of argument is universal. 
The confidence in the ultimate judgment of the 
community is general. The assurance of ability 
to lead is frequent. And through the local 
office, the small task, the way lies open to larger 
duties and positions in the State and the na- 
tion. 

It is not true that every native-born newsboy 
in America thinks that he can become President. 
But he knows that he may if he can; and per- 
haps it is this knowledge, or perhaps it is some- 
thing in his blood, that often encourages him 
to try how far he can go on the way. I suppose 
it is true that there are more ambitious boys 
in America than in any other country of the 
world. 

At the same time this spirit of self-reliance 
works in another and different direction. With- 
in the seemingly complicated politics of nation. 
State, and town, each typical American is a 
person who likes to take care of himself, to have 
his own way, to manage his own affairs. He 
is not inclined to rely upon the State for aid 
and comfort. He wants not as much govern- 
ment as possible, but as little. He dislikes inter- 
ference. Sometimes he resents control. He 
is an individual, a person, and he feels very 
strongly that personal freedom is what he most 
73 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


needs, and that he is able to make good use of 
a large amount of it. 

Now it is evident that such a spirit as this 
has its weakness as well as its strength. It 
leads easily to overconfidence, to ignorant self- 
assurance, to rashness in undertaking tasks, 
and to careless haste in performing them. 

It is good to be a person, but not good that 
every person should think himself a personage. 
It is good to be ready for any duty, but not good 
to undertake any duty without making ready 
for it. 

There are many Americans who have too 
little respect for special training, and too much 
confidence in their power to solve the problems 
of philosophy and statesmanship extempora- 
neously. 

No doubt there is a popular tendency to dis- 
regard exceptional powers and attainments, and 
to think that one man is as good as another. 
No doubt you can find in America some cases 
of self-reliance so hypertrophied that it amounts 
to impudence towards the laws of the universe. 
This is socially disagreeable, politically danger- 
ous, and morally regrettable. 

Yet we must not forget the other side. The 
spirit of self-reliance is not to be judged by its 
failures, but by its successes. 

74 


SELF-RELIANCE AND THE REPUBLIC 


It has enabled America to assert an inde- 
pendence which the rest of the world, except 
France, thought impossible; to frame a gov- 
ernment which the rest of the world, including 
France, thought impracticable; and to survive 
civil storms and perils which almost all the 
world thought would be fatal. It has animated 
the American people with a large and cheerful 
optimism which takes for granted that great 
things are worth doing, and tries to do them. 
It has made it easier to redeem a continent 
from the ancient wilderness and to build on 
new ground a civilized state sufficient to its own 
support. 

The spirit of self-reliance has fallen into mis- 
takes, but it has shunned delays, evasions, and 
despairs. It has begotten explorers, pioneers, 
inventors. It has trained masters of industry 
in the school of action. It has saved the poor 
man from the fetters of his poverty, and de- 
livered the lowly man from the prison of his 
obscurity. 

Perhaps it has spoiled the worst material; 
but it has made the most of the average ma- 
terial; and it has bettered the best material. 
It has developed in such leaders as Franklin, 
Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Lee, Grant, and 
Cleveland a very noble and excellent manhood, 
calm, steady, equal to all emergencies. 

75 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Somehow it has brought out of the turmoil of 
events and conflicts the soul of an adult people, 
ready to trust itself and to advance into the 
new day without misgiving. 


76 


Ill 

FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


XT is no mistake to think of America as a 
**■ democratic country. But if you wish to 
understand the nature and quality of the 
democracy which prevails there, — its specific 
marks, its peculiarities, and perhaps its incon- 
sistencies, — ^you must trace it to its source in 
the spirit affair play. Therefore it will be profit- 
able to study this spirit a little more carefully, 
to define it a little more clearly, and to con- 
sider some illustrations of its working in Amer- 
ican institutions, society, and character. 

The spirit of fair play, in its deepest origin, 
is a kind of religion. It is true that religious 
organisations have not always shown it so that 
it could be identified by people outside. But 
this has been the fault of the organisations. At 
bottom, fair play is a man’s recognition that he 
is not alone in the universe, that the world was 
not made for his private benefit, that the law 
of being is a benevolent justice which must 
regard and rule him as well as his fellow-men 
with sincere impartiality, and that any human 
77 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


system or order which interferes with this im- 
partiality is contrary to the will of the Supreme 
Wisdom and Love. Is not this a kind of reli- 
gion, and a very good kind.^ Do we not in- 
stinctively recognise a Divine authority in its 
voice when it says: ‘‘Whatsoever ye would 
that men should do unto you, do ye even so 
unto them” ? 

But in its practical operation in every-day 
affairs this spirit is not always conscious of its 
deep origin. It is not usually expressed in 
terms of religion, any more than an ordinary 
weighing-machine is inscribed with the formula 
of gravitation. It appears simply as the wish 
to conduct trade with just weights and mea- 
sures, to live in a State which aflFords equal pro- 
tection and opportunity to all its citizens, to 
play a game in which the rules are the same for 
every player, and a good stroke counts, no matter 
who makes it. 

The Anglo-Saxon race has fallen into the habit 
of claiming this spirit of fair play as its own 
peculiar property. The claim does not illus- 
trate the quality which it asserts. Certainly no 
one can defend the proposition that the growth 
of this spirit in America was due exclusively, or 
even chiefly, to English influence. It was in 
New England and in Virginia that ecclesiastical 
78 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


intolerance and social exclusiveness were most 
developed. In the middle colonies like New 
York, Pennsylvania, and Delaware, where the 
proportion of colonists from Holland, France, 
and Germany was larger, a more liberal and 
tolerant spirit prevailed. 

But, after all, it must be acknowledged that 
in the beginning there was hardly any part of 
America where the spirit of self-reliance really 
carried with it that necessary complement, — the 
spirit of fair play. This was a thing of much 
slower growth. Indeed, it was not until the 
American people, passionately desiring self-rule, 
were brought into straits where they needed the 
help of every man to fight for independence, 
that they began to feel the right of every man 
to share equally in the benefits and privileges 
of self-rule. 

I pass by the discussion of the reasons why 
this second trait in the soul of the people devel- 
oped later than the first. I pass by the tempt- 
ing opportunity to describe the absurd preten- 
sions of colonial aristocracy. I pass by the 
familiar theme of the inflexible prejudices of Pu- 
ritan theocracy, which led men to interpret lib- 
erty of conscience as the right to practise their 
own form of worship and to persecute all others. 
I pass by the picturesque and neglected spec- 
79 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


tacle of the violence of the mobs which shouted 
for liberty — a violence which reminds one of 
the saying of Rivarol that ‘‘the crowd never 
believes that it has liberty until it attacks the 
liberties of others.” All this I pass by for want 
of time, and come at once to the classic utter- 
ance of the spirit of fair play in America — I 
mean the Declaration of Independence. 

If I must apologise for discussing a document 
so familiar, it is because familiarity, not being 
illuminated by intelligence, has bred in these 
latter days a certain kind of contempt. A false 
interpretation has led the enthusiastic admirers 
of the Declaration of Independence to complain 
that it has been abandoned, and its scornful 
despisers to say that it ought to be abandoned. 
The Declaration, in fact, has been as variously 
and as absurdly explained as the writings of 
St. Paul, of whom a French critic said that 
“the only man of the second century who un- 
derstood St. Paul was Marcion, and he mis- 
understood him.” 

Take the famous sentence from the beginning 
of that document. “We hold these truths to 
be self-evident: that all men are created equal; 
that they are endowed by their Creator with 
certain inalienable rights; that among these are 
life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that 
80 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


to secure these rights, governments are insti- 
tuted among men, deriving their just powers 
from the consent of the governed; that when- 
ever any form of government becomes destruc- 
tive of these ends, it is the right of the people 
to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new 
form of government, laying its foundations on 
such principles and organising its power in such 
form as to them shall seem most likely to effect 
their safety and happiness.” 

Now what have we here.^ A defence of the 
right of revolution, no doubt, but not a sweep- 
ing and unqualified defence. It is carefully 
guarded and limited by the condition that revo- 
lution is justified only when government be- 
comes destructive of its own ends, — the security 
and the happiness of the people. 

And what have we here in the way of political 
doctrine.^ An assertion of the common rights 
of man as derived from his Creator, no doubt, 
and an implication that the specific preroga- 
tives of rulers are not of divine origin. But 
there is no denial that the institution of govern- 
ment among men has a divine sanction. On 
the contrary, such a sanction is distinctly im- 
plied in the statement that government is neces- 
sary for the security of rights divinely given. 
There is no assertion of the divinity or even the 
81 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


superiority of any particular form of govern- 
ment, republican or democratic. On the con- 
trary, ‘‘just powers” are recognised as deriva- 
ble from the consent of the people. According 
to this view, a happy and consenting people 
under George III or Louis XVI would be as 
lawfully governed as a happy people under a 
congress and a president. 

And what have we here in the way of social 
theory? An assertion of equality, no doubt, 
and a very flat-footed and peremptory assertion. 
‘‘All men are created equal.” But equal in 
what? In strength, in ability, in influence, in 
possessions? Not a word of it. The assertion 
of such a thing in an assembly which contained 
men as different as George Washington, with 
his lofty stature and rich estate, and Samuel 
Adams, for whose unimpressive person his 
friends were sometimes obliged to supply lodg- 
ing and raiment, would have been a palpable 
absurdity. 

“But,” says Professor Wendell, “the Decla- 
ration only asserts that men are created equal, 
not that they must remain so.” Not at all. 
It implies that what equality exists by creation 
ought to remain by protection. It is, and 
ought to be, inalienable. 

But what is that equality? Not of person; 

82 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


for that would be to say that all men are alike, 
which is evidently false. Not of property; for 
that would be to say that all men are on a level, 
which never has been true, and, whether it is 
desirable or not, probably never will be true. 
The equality which is asserted among men re- 
fers simply to the rights which are common to 
men: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 
Here government must make no distinctions, no 
exceptions. Here the social order must impose 
no arbitrary and unequal deprivations and bar- 
riers. The life of all is equally sacred, the lib- 
erty of all must be equally secure, in order that 
the right of all to pursue happiness may be 
equally open. 

Equality of opportunity: that is the proposi- 
tion of the Declaration of Independence. And 
when you come to look at it closely, it does not 
seem at all unreasonable. For it proposes no 
alteration in the laws of the universe, — only a 
principle to be observed in human legislation. 
It predicts no Utopia of universal prosperity, — 
only a common adventure of equal risks and 
hopes. It has not the accent of that phrase, 
‘‘Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death,” which 
Chamfort translated so neatly, “Be my brother 
or I will kill you.” It proceeds rather upon the 
assumption that fraternity already exists. It 
83 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


says, are brothers; therefore let us deal 

squarely with one another.” It is, in fact, 
nothing more and nothing less than the voice 
of the spirit of fair play speaking gravely of the 
deepest interests of man. Here, in this game of 
life, it says, as we play it in America, the rules 
shall be the same for all. The penalties shall 
be the same for all. The prizes, so far as we 
can make it so, shall be open to all. And let 
the best man win. 

This, so far as I can see it, or feel it, or 
comprehend it, is the sum total of democracy 
in America. 

It is not an abstract theory of universal 
suflFrage and the infallibility of the majority. 
For, as a matter of fact, universal suffrage 
never has existed in the United States and does 
not exist to-day. Each State has the right to 
fix its own conditions of suffrage, within the 
limits of the Constitution. It may require a 
property qualification; and in the past many 
States imposed this condition. It may require 
an educational qualification; and to-day some 
States are imposing this condition. It may 
exclude the Chinese; and California, Oregon, 
and Nevada make this exclusion. It may ad- 
mit only natives and foreigners who have been 
naturalised, as the majority of the States do. 

84 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


It may admit also foreigners who have merely 
declared their intention of becoming natural- 
ised, as eleven of the States do. It may permit 
only men to vote, or it may expressly grant 
the suflfrage to every citizen, male or female, 
as Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah do. 
But the law of the nation says that when citizen- 
ship is established, the right to vote shall not 
be denied or abridged on account of race, colour, 
or previous condition of servitude. 

It is entirely possible, therefore, that within 
this condition, suffrage should expand or con- 
tract in the United States according to the will 
of the people. Woman suffrage might come 
in next year.* On the other hand, educational 
and property qualifications might be proposed 
which would reduce the suffrage by a quarter 
or a third; but this is not likely to happen. 
The point is that suffrage in America is not 
regarded as a universal and inalienable human 
right, but as a political privilege granted on 
the ground of fair play in order to make the 
rights of the people more secure. 

The undeniable tendency has been to widen 
the suffrage; for Americans, as a rule, have a 
large confidence in the reasonableness of human 
nature, and believe that public opinion, properly 

* Spoken, 1909. It came, 1920. 

85 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and deliberately ascertained, will prove to be 
a wise and safe guide. But they recognise that 
a popular election may not always represent 
public opinion, that a people, like an individual, 
may and probably will need time to arrive at 
the best thought, the wisest counsel. 

President Grover Cleveland, a confirmed and 
indexible Democrat, but not an obstreperous or 
flamboyant one, often said to me; ‘‘You can 
trust the best judgment of the rank and file, 
but you cannot always reach that best judg- 
ment in a hurry.” James Russell Lowell said 
pretty much the same thing: ‘‘An appeal to 
the reason of the people has never been known 
to fail in the long run.” The long run ^ — that 
is the needful thing in the successful working of 
popular suffrage. And that the Americans have 
tried to gain by the division and distribution 
of powers, by the interposition of checks and 
delays, by lodging extraordinary privileges of 
veto in the hands of governors of States, and 
of the President of the United States. In 
short, by making swift action difficult and sud- 
den action impossible, they have sought to 
secure fair play, even from the crowd, for 
every man and every interest. 

There are some of us who think that this 
might have been done more easily and more 
86 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


certainly if the bounds of suffrage had not been 
made so wide. We doubt, for example, whether 
a group of day-labourers coming from Italy 
with their 'padrone are really protected in their 
natural rights by having the privilege of a vote 
before they can understand the language of 
the land in which they cast it. So far from being 
a protection, it seems to us like a danger. It 
exposes them to the seductions of the dema- 
gogue and to the control of the boss. 

The suffrage of the ignorant is like a diamond 
hung round the neck of a little child who is 
sent out into the street: an invitation to rob- 
bers. It is like a stick of dynamite in the hands 
of a foolish boy: a prophecy of explosion. 

There are some of us who think that ‘‘com- 
ing of age” might be measured by intelligence 
as well as by years; that it would be easier to 
get at the mind of the people if the vote were 
cast by the people who have minds; that a 
popular election would come nearer to repre- 
senting public opinion if there were some way 
of sifting out at least a considerable part of 
those electors who can neither read nor write, 
nor understand the Constitution under which 
they are voting. 

But whatever may be the thoughts and wishes 
of the more conservative Americans upon this 
87 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


subject, two things are certain. One is that 
the privilege of voting is a thing which is easy 
to give and hard to take back. The other sure 
thing is that the Spirit of America will never 
consent to any restriction of the suffrage which 
rests upon artificial distinctions, or seems to 
create ranks and orders and estates within the 
body politic. If any conditions are imposed, 
they must be the same for all. If the privilege 
should be in any way narrowed, it must still 
be open alike to all who will make the necessary 
effort to attain it. This is fair play; and this, 
so far as the suffrage and popular sovereignty 
are concerned, is what American democracy 
means. Not that every man shall count alike 
in the affairs of state, but that every man shall 
have an equal chance to make himself count 
for what he is worth. 

Mark you, I do not say that this result has 
been fully accomplished in the United States. 
The machinery of parties interferes with it. 
The presentation of men and of measures from 
a purely partisan point of view interferes with 
it. In any national election it is reasonably 
sure that either the Republican party or the 
Democratic party will win. The policies and 
the candidates of both have been determined 
in committee or caucus, by processes which the 
88 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 

ordinary citizen does not understand and can- 
not touch. But what if he does not like the 
results on either side.^ What if neither party 
seems to him clear or consistent or satisfactory ? 
Still he must go with one or the other, or else 
be content to assert his individuality and lose 
his electoral eflSciency by going in with one of 
the three or four little parties which stand for 
moral protest, or intellectual whim, or political 
vagary, without any possible chance of carry- 
ing the election. 

A thoughtful man sometimes feels as if he 
were almost helpless amid the intricacies of the 
system by which his opinion on national affairs 
is asked. He sits with his vote in his hand as 
if it were some strange and antiquated instru- 
ment, and says to himself, ‘‘Now what, in 
heaven’s name, am I going to do with this.^^” 

In the large cities, especially, this sense of 
impotence is likely to trouble the intelligent 
and conscientious American. For here a species 
of man has developed called the Boss, who takes 
possession of the political machinery and uses 
it for his own purposes. He controls the party 
through a faction, and the faction through a 
gang, and the gang through a ring, and the ring 
by his own will, which is usually neither sweet 
nor savoury. He virtually owns the public 
89 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


franchises, the public oflEices, the public payroll. 
Like Rob Roy or Robin Hood, he takes tribute 
from the rich and distributes it to the poor, — 
for a consideration : namely, their personal loy- 
alty to him. He leads his followers to the polls 
as a feudal chief led his retainers to battle. And 
the men whom he has chosen, the policies which 
he approves, are the ones that win. 

What does this mean ? The downfall of 
democracy.^ No; only the human weakness 
of the system in which democracy has sought 
to reach its ends; only the failure in duty, in 
many cases, of the very men who ought to have 
watched over the system in order to prevent 
its corruption. 

It is because good men in America too often 
neglect politics that bad men sometimes con- 
trol them. And, after all, when the evil goes 
far enough, it secretes its own remedy, — ^pop- 
ular discontent, a reform movement, a peaceful 
change. The way is open. Speech is free. 
There is no need of pikes and barricades and 
firebrands. There is a more powerful weapon 
in every man’s hand. Persuade him to use it 
for his own good. Combine the forces of intel- 
ligence and conscience, and the city which sees 
its own interest will find out how to secure it. 

But the trouble, with such a mass of voters, 
90 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


is to produce this awakening, to secure this 
combination of better forces. It is a trouble 
which Americans often feel deeply, and of which 
they sometimes complain bitterly. But after 
all, if you can get down to the bottom of their 
minds, you will find that they would rather take 
their trouble in this form than in any other. 
They feel that there is something wholesome and 
bracing in the idea that people must want good 
government before they can get it. And for the 
sake of this they are willing, upon the whole, 
and except during intervals, to give that eternal 
vigilance which is the price of fair play. 

It is not, however, of democracy as it has 
taken shape in political forms that I would speak; 
but rather of democracy as a spirit, a sentiment 
existing in the soul of the American people. The 
root of it is the feeling that the openings of life, 
so far as they are under human control, ought 
to be equal for all. The world may be like a 
house of many stories, some higher, some lower. 
But there shall be no locked doors between 
those stories. Every stairway shall be un- 
barred. Every man shall have his chance to 
rise. Every man shall be free to pursue his 
happiness, and protected in the enjoyment of 
his liberty, and secure in the possession of his 
91 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


life, so far as he does not interfere with others 
in the same rights. 

This does not mean that all shall be treated 
ahke, shall receive the same rewards. For, as 
Plato says, ‘‘The essence of equality lies in 
treating unequal things unequally.’’ But it 
means what the first Napoleon called la carrier e 
ouverte aux talents. Nay, it means a little more 
than that. For it goes beyond the talents, to 
the mediocrities, to the ineflSciencies, and takes 
them into its just and humane and unprejudiced 
account. It means what President Roosevelt 
meant when he spoke of ^Hhe square deal for 
everybody^ The soul of the American people 
answered to his words because he had expressed 
one of their dominant ideals. 

You must not imagine that I propose to claim 
that this ideal has been perfectly realised in 
America. It is not true that every man gets 
justice there. It is not true that none are op- 
pressed or unfairly treated. It is not true that 
every one finds the particular stairway which 
he wishes to climb open and unencumbered. 
But where is any ideal perfectly realised except 
in heaven and in the writings of female novel- 
ists? It is of the real desire and purpose, the 
good intention, the aim and temper of the 
American people, that I speak. And here I 
92 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 

say, without doubt, the spirit of fair play has 
been, and still is, one of the creative and con- 
trolling factors of America. 

If you should ask me for the best evidence to 
support this statement, I should at once name 
the Constitution, and the Supreme Court of the 
United States. Here is an original institution, 
created and established by the people at the very 
birth of the nation, peculiar in its character and 
functions, I believe, to America, and embodying 
in visible form the spirit of fair play. 

The laws under which a man must live in 
America are of three kinds. There is first the 
common law, which prevails, I believe, in all the 
States except Louisiana, which is still under the 
Napoleonic Code. The common law, inherited 
from England, is contained in the mass of de- 
cisions and precedents handed down by the 
duly established courts from generation to gen- 
eration. It is supposed to cover the principles 
which are likely to arise in almost all cases. 
But when a new principle appears, the judge 
must decide it according to his conscience and 
create the legal precedent. 

The second source of law is found in statutes 
of the United States enacted by Congress, in 
the constitutions of the different States, and in 
the statutes enacted by the State legislatures. 

93 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Here we have definite rules and regulations, not 
arising out of differences or disputes between 
individuals, but framed on general principles, 
and intended to cover all cases that may arise 
under them. 

The third source of law is the Constitution of 
the United States, which is supreme and sover- 
eign over all other laws. It is the enactment of 
the whole people. Congress did not create it. 
It created Congress. No legislation, whether 
of a State or of the nation, can impair or con- 
travene its authority. It can only be changed 
by the same power which made it, — ^the people 
of the United States, expressing their will, first 
through a two-thirds majority of the national 
House and Senate, and then directly through 
the vote of three-fourths of the forty-six States. 

Any statute which confiicts with the Consti- 
tution is invalid. Any State constitution which 
fails to conform to it is, in so far forth, non- 
existent. Any judicial decision which contra- 
dicts it is of no binding force. Over all the 
complexities of legislation and the perplexities 
of politics in America stands this law above the 
laws, this ultimate guarantee of fair play. 

The thing to be noted in the Constitution is 
this: brief as it is for the creative document of 
a great nation, it contains an ample Bill of 
94 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


Rights, protecting every man alike. The Con- 
stitution, as originally framed in 1787, had 
omitted to do this fully, though it prohibited 
the States from passing any law to impair the 
validity of contracts, from suspending the writ 
of habeas corpus in time of peace, and from other 
things contrary to the spirit of fair play. But 
it was evident at once that the Constitution 
would not be ratified by a sufficient number of 
the States unless it went much farther. Massa- 
chusetts voiced the Spirit of America in pre- 
senting a series of amendments covering the 
ground of equal dealing with all men in the 
matters most essential to individual freedom and 
security. In 1790 these amendments, num- 
bered from I to X, were passed by Congress, 
and in 1791 they became part of the Constitu- 
tion. 

What do they do ? They guarantee religious 
liberty, freedom of speech and of the press, and 
the right of popular assembly and petition. 
They protect every man, in time of peace, from 
criminal indictment except by a grand jury, 
from secret trial, from compulsion to testify 
against himself, from being tried again for an 
offence of which he has been once acquitted, 
and from the requisition of excessive bail and 
the infliction of cruel or unusual punishments. 

95 


. THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


They guarantee to him the right to be tried by 
an impartial jury of his peers and neighbours 
in criminal cases and in all suits under common 
law when the amount in controversy exceeds 
twenty dollars in value. They protect his house 
from search except under legal and specific war- 
rant, and his property from appropriation for 
public use without just compensation. They 
assure him that he shall not be deprived of life, 
liberty, or property without due process of law. 

The remarkable thing about these provisions 
for fair play is not so much their nature as the 
place where they are put. In England there is 
a Bill of Rights, embodied in various enact- 
ments, which covers pretty much the same 
ground. But these, as Mr. James Bryce says, 
“are merely ordinary laws, which could be re- 
pealed by Parliament at any moment in exactly 
the same way as it can repeal a highway act or 
lower the duty on tobacco.” But in America 
they are placed upon a secure and lofty founda- 
tion, they are lifted above the passing storms of 
party politics. No State can touch them. No 
act of Congress can touch them. They belong 
to the law above laws. 

Nor is this all. A supreme tribunal, coordi- 
nate with the national executive and legislature, 
independent and final in its action, is created 
96 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


by the Constitution itself to interpret and ap- 
ply this supreme law. The nine judges who 
compose this court are chosen from the highest 
ranks of the legal profession, appointed by the 
President, and confirmed by the Senate. They 
hold oflSce for life. Their court room is in the 
centre of the national Capitol, between the wings 
appropriated to the Senate and the House. 

It is to that quiet chamber, so rich, so noble 
in its dignity and simplicity, so free from pomp 
and ostentation, so remote from turmoil and 
confusion, so filled with the tranquil glory of 
intelligence and conscience, so eloquent of con- 
fidence in the power of justice to vindicate it- 
self, — ^it is to that room that I would take a 
foreigner who asked me why I believe that 
democracy in America has the promise of en- 
durance. Those nine men, in their black judi- 
cial robes (the only civil ofiicials of the nation 
who have from the beginning worn a uniform 
of office), are the symbols of the American con- 
science offering the ultimate guarantee of fair 
play. To them every case in law and equity 
arising under the Constitution, treaties, and 
laws of the United States, every case of admi- 
ralty and marine jurisdiction, every case be- 
tween citizens of different States, or between 
two States, every case in which the United 
97 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


States itself is a party, may be brought for final 
decision. For more than a hundred years this 
court has discharged its high functions without 
a suspicion of corruption or a shadow of reproach. 

Twenty-one times it has annulled the action 
of Congress and declared it ultra vires , More 
than two hundred times it has found that State 
statutes were contrary to the Constitution and 
therefore practically non-existent. And these 
decisions are not made in the abstract, on 
theory, but in the concrete, on actual cases 
when the principle of fair play under the Con- 
stitution is at stake. 

Let me illustrate this. In 1894 a law was 
passed by Congress taxing all incomes over a 
certain sum at certain rates. This was, in 
effect, not a tax based proportionally upon pop- 
ulation, but a special tax upon a part of the 
population. It was also a direct tax levied by 
the national legislature. There was no neces- 
sity of discussing the abstract question of the 
wisdom or righteousness of such taxation. The 
only question was whether it was fair play 
under the Constitution. A citizen of New York 
refused to pay the tax; the case was brought to 
the Supreme Court and argued by Mr. Choate, 
the late American Ambassador to Great Brit- 
ain. The court held that Congress had no 

* 1909 . 

98 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


power to impose such a tax, because the Consti- 
tution forbids that body to lay any direct tax, 
‘‘unless in proportion to the census/’ By this 
one decision the income-tax law became null, as 
if it had never been. The only way to make 
such a law valid would be by Constitutional 
amendment. 

Again, a certain citizen had obtained from 
the State of Georgia a grant of land upon cer- 
tain terms. This grant was subsequently re- 
pealed by the State by a general statute. A 
case arose out of the conveyance of this land by 
a deed and covenant, and was carried to the 
Supreme Court. The court held that the stat- 
ute of the State which took the citizen’s land 
away from him was null, because it “impaired 
the obligation of a contract,” which the Consti- 
tution expressly forbids. 

Again, in 1890, Congress passed a measure 
commonly called the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, 
declaring “every contract, combination in the 
form of trusts or otherwise, or conspiracy in re- 
straint of trade or commerce among the several 
States” to be illegal. This was undoubtedly 
intended to prevent the merger of railroads and 
manufacturing concerns into gigantic trusts 
with monopolistic powers. The American spirit 
has always understood liberty as including the 
99 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


right of the citizen to be free in the enjoyment 
of all his faculties, to live and work where he 
will, and in so doing to move freely from State 
to State. So far as the trusts were combina- 
tions in restraint of this right, the statute prop- 
erly declared them illegal, and the Supreme 
Court so interpreted and applied it. But it 
soon became evident that combinations of la- 
bour might restrain trade just as much as com- 
binations of capital. A strike or a boycott 
might paralyse an industry or stop a railroad. 
The Supreme Court did not hesitate to apply 
the same rule to the employees as to the em- 
ployers. It held that a combination whose pro- 
fessed object is to arrest the operation of rail- 
roads whose lines extend from a great city into 
adjoining States until such roads accede to cer- 
tain demands made upon them, whether such 
demands are in themselves reasonable or un- 
reasonable, just or unjust, is certainly an un- 
lawful conspiracy in restraint of commerce 
among the States. 

Again and again the Supreme Court has in- 
terfeied to prevent citizens of all the States 
from being deprived by the action of any State 
of those liberties which belong to them in com- 
mon. Again and again its decisions have ex- 
pressed and illustrated the fundamental Ameri- 
100 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 

can conviction which is summed up in the 
strong words of Justice Bradley: ‘‘The right to 
follow any of the common occupations of life 
is an inalienable right.” 

I have not spoken of the other federal courts 
and of the general machinery of justice in the 
United States, because there is not time to do 
so. If it were possible to characterise the gen- 
eral tendency in a sentence, I would say that it 
lays the primary emphasis on the protection of 
rights, and the secondary emphasis on the pun- 
ishment of offences. Looking at the processes 
of justice from the outside, and describing things 
by their appearance, one might say that in 
some parts of the continent of Europe an ac- 
cused man looks guilty till he is proved inno- 
cent; in America he looks innocent until his 
guilt is established. 

The American tendency has its serious draw- 
backs, — ^legal delays, failures to convict, immu- 
nity of criminals, and so on. These are un- 
pleasant and dangerous things. Yet, after all, 
when the thoughtful American looks at his 
country quietly and soberly he feels that a fun- 
damental sense of justice prevails there not 
only in the courts but among the people. The 
exceptions are glaring, but they are still excep- 
tions. And when he remembers the immense 
101 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and inevitable perils of a republic, he reassures 
himself by considering the past history and the 
present power of the Supreme Court, that great 
bulwark against oflScial encroachment, legisla- 
tive tyranny, and mobocracy — that grave and 
majestic symbol of the spirit of fair play. A 
republic with such an institution at the centre 
of its national life has at least one instru- 
ment of protection against the dangers which 
lurk in the periphery of its own passions. 

If you should ask me for a second illustration 
of the spirit of fair play in America, I should 
name religious liberty and the peaceful indepen- 
dence of the churches within the state. I do 
not call it the “Separation of Church and State,” 
because I fear that in France the phrase might 
carry a false meaning. It might convey the 
impression of a forcible rupture, or even a feel- 
ing of hostility, between the government and 
the religious bodies. Nothing of that kind 
exists in America. The state extends a firm 
and friendly protection to the adherents of all 
forms of religious belief or unbelief, defending 
all alike in their persons, in the possession of 
their property, and in their chosen method of 
pursuing happiness, whether in this world or in 
the next. It requires only that they shall not 
102 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


practise as a part of their cult anything con- 
trary to public morality, such as polygamy, or 
physical cruelty, or neglect of children. Other- 
wise they are all free to follow the dictates of 
conscience in worshipping or in not worship- 
ping, and in so doing they are under the shield 
of government. 

This is guaranteed not only by the Constitu- 
tion of the United States, but also by the sep- 
arate State constitutions, so far as I know, 
without exception. Moreover, the general con- 
fidence and good-will of the state towards the 
churches is shown in many ways. Property 
used for religious purposes is exempted from 
taxation, — doubtless on the ground that these 
purposes are likely to promote good citizenship 
and orderly living. Religious marriage is rec- 
ognised, but not required; and the act of a min- 
ister of any creed is, in this particular, as valid 
and binding as if he were a magistrate. But 
such marriages must be witnessed and registered 
according to law, and no church can annul them. 
It is the common practice to open sessions of 
the legislature, national and State, with an act 
of prayer; but participation in this act is vol- 
untary. The President, according to ancient 
custom, appoints an annual day of national 
thanksgiving in the month of November, and 
103 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


his proclamation to this eflfect is repeated by 
the governors of the diflFerent States. But here, 
again, it is a proclamation of liberty. The peo- 
ple are simply recommended to assemble in their 
various places of worship, and to give thanks 
according to their conscience and faith. 

The laws against blasphemy and against the 
disturbance of public worship which exist in 
most of the States offer an equal protection to 
a Jewish synagogue, a Catholic cathedral, a 
Buddhist temple, a Protestant church, and a 
Quaker meeting-house; and no citizen is under 
any compulsion to enter any one of these build- 
ings, or to pay a penny of taxation for their 
support. Each religious organisation regulates 
its own affairs and controls its own property. 
In cases of dispute arising within a church the 
civil law has decided, again and again, that the 
rule and constitution of the church itself shall 
prevail. 

But what of the religious bodies which exist 
under this system? Do not imagine that they 
are small, feeble, or insignificant; that they 
are content to be merely tolerated; that they 
feel themselves in any way impotent or slighted. 
They include the large majority of the American 
people. Twelve millions are adherents of the 
Catholic Church. The adherents of the Protes- 
104 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


tant churches are estimated to number between 
forty and fifty millions. But neither as a whole, 
nor in any of their separate organisations, do 
the religious people of America feel that they 
are deprived of any real rights or robbed of 
any just powers. 

It is true that the different churches are some- 
times very jealous of one another. But bad as 
that may be for them, from a political point of 
view it is rather a safeguard. 

It is true that ecclesiastics sometimes have 
dreams, and perhaps schemes, which look 
towards the obtaining of special privileges or 
powers for their own organisation. But that 
is because ecclesiastics are human and fallible. 
In the main, you may say with confidence that 
there is no party or sect in America that has 
the slightest wish to see church and state united, 
or even entangled. The American people are 
content and happy that religion should be free 
and independent. And this contentment arises 
from three causes. 

First, religious liberty has come naturally, 
peacefully, in a moderate and friendly temper, 
with consideration for the conscience and the 
rights of all, and at the same time, if I mistake 
not, with a general recognition that the essence 
of religion, personal faith in a spiritual life and 
105 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


a Divine law, is a purifying, strengthening, ele- 
vating factor in human society. 

Second, the churches have prospered in free- 
dom; they are well-to-do, they are active, they 
are able to erect fine edifices, to support their 
clergy, to carry on benevolent and missionary 
enterprises on an immense scale, costing many 
millions of dollars every year. The voluntary 
system has its great disadvantages and draw- 
backs, — its perils, even. But upon the whole, 
religious people in America, Catholics, Protes- 
tants, and Jews alike, feel that these are more 
than counterbalanced by the devotion which 
is begotten and nourished by the very act of 
making gifts and sacrifices, and by the sober 
strength which comes into a man’s faith when 
he is called to support it by his works. 

Men value what they pay for. But this is 
true only when they pay for what they really 
want. 

Third, and chiefiy, religious liberty commends 
itself to the Americans because they feel that 
it is the very highest kind of fair play. That a 
man should have freedom in the affairs of his 
soul is certainly most vital to his pursuit of 
happiness. The noble example of tolerance 
which was set to the American colonies by the 
Quakers of Pennsylvania, the Baptists of Rhode 
106 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


Island, and the Catholics of Maryland, prevailed 
slowly but surely over the opposite example of 
the Puritans of Massachusetts and the Anglicans 
of Virginia. The saying of William of Orange, 
‘‘Conscience is God’s province,” has become one 
of the watchwords of America. 

In a country which, as a matter of fact, is 
predominantly Christian and Protestant, there 
is neither establishment nor proscription of any 
form of faith. In the President’s cabinet (1908) 
I personally know a Jew, a Catholic, a Presby- 
terian, an Episcopalian, and a Methodist. The 
President himself is a member of one of the 
smaller denominations, the Dutch Reformed. 

Nor is unfaith penalised or persecuted. A 
recent writer on America has said that “an 
avowed atheist is not received in any social 
circles above that of the ordinary saloon.” Well, 
an atheist avowed in definite and immistakable 
terms, a man who positively aflSrms that there 
is no God, is a very diflScult person to find in 
this world of mystery. But a positivist, a free- 
thinker, a Voltairean, a sceptic, an agnostic, an 
antisupernaturalist of any kind, has the same 
rights and privileges as any other man. In 
America, if his life is clean and his manners 
decent, he goes everywhere. You may meet 
107 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


him in the best clubs, and in social circles which 
are at the farthest remove from the saloon. 
This is not because people like his opinions, but 
because they feel he is entitled to form them for 
himself. They take it for granted that it is 
as impossible to correct unbelief by earthly 
penalties as it is to deprive faith of its heavenly 
rewards. 

I do not say that this is the right attitude, 
the only reasonable attitude. I do not wish 
to persuade any one to adopt it. I say only 
that it is the characteristic attitude of the Amer- 
icans, and that sincerely religious people hold 
it, in the Catholic Church and in the Protestant 
Church. It may be that the spirit of fair play 
has blinded them. It may be that it has en- 
lightened them. Be that as it may, they have 
passed beyond the point of demanding freedom 
of conscience for themselves, to that of conced- 
ing it to others. And in this they think that 
they are acting in accordance with the Divine 
will and example. 

An anecdote will illustrate this attitude better 
than many paragraphs of explanation. In the 
older American colleges, which were independent 
of state control, the original course of study was 
uniform and prescribed, and chapel services 
were held which the students were required to 
108 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


attend. Elective studies came in. The oldest 
of the universities made attendance at chapel 
voluntary. ‘T understand,” said a critic to 
the president of the university, “that you have 
made God an elective at Harvard.” The Presi- 
dent thought for a moment. “No,” said he, 
“we understand that He has made Himself 
elective everywhere.” 

There are certain singular limitations in the 
spirit of fair play in America of which I must 
say a word in order to play fair. Chief among 
these is the way in which the people of the 
colonies and of the United States dealt for many 
years with the races which have not a white 
skin. 

The American Indians, in the seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries, undoubtedly sinned 
as much as they were sinned against. They 
were treacherous, implacable, unspeakably 
cruel, horribly bloodthirsty. It is no wonder 
that the colonists regarded them as devils. It 
is no wonder that the feeling of mistrust and 
resentment persisted from one generation to 
another. But the strange thing is that when 
the Indians were subjugated and for the most 
part pacified, America still treated them from 
a hostile and alien point of view, denied them 
109 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the rights of citizenship, took their property 
from them, and made it very diflScult for them 
to pursue happiness in any reasonable form. 
For many years this treatment continued. It 
was so glaring that a book was written which 
described the Indian policy of the United States, 
not altogether unjustly, as A Century of Dis- 
honor. To-day all this is changed. The scat- 
tered and diminished remnants of the red men 
are admitted to citizenship if they wish it, and 
protected in their rights, and private benev- 
olence vies with government in seeking to bet- 
ter their condition. 

The African race, introduced into America for 
industrial reasons, multiplied more rapidly here 
than in its native home, and soon became a 
large factor in the population. But it was re- 
garded and treated from a point of view totally 
different from that which controlled the treat- 
ment of the white factors. It did not share in 
the rights enumerated in the Declaration of 
Independence. It was an object of commerce, 
a source of wealth, a necessity of agriculture. 
The system of domestic slavery held practically 
all of the negroes in bondage (in spite of the fact 
that the Northern States abandoned it, and 
many of the best men in the South disliked it 
and protested against it) until the third quarter 

no 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


of the nineteenth century. It was approved, 
or at least tolerated, by the majority of the 
people until the Civil War did away with it. 
It has left as a legacy of retribution the most 
diflScult and dangerous problem of America, — 
perhaps the greatest and most perplexing do- 
mestic problem that any nation has ever had 
to face. 

Nine millions of negroes, largely ignorant and 
naturally ill-fitted for self-government, are domi- 
ciled in the midst of a white population which in 
some sections of the South they outnumber. 
How to rule, protect, and educate this body of 
coloured people; how to secure them in their 
civil rights without admitting them to a racial 
mixture — that is the problem. 

The Oriental races, recently coming to Amer- 
ica in increasing numbers, receive from the peo- 
ple a welcome which cannot be described as 
cordial. The exclusion of the Chinese from 
citizenship, and in some States from immigra- 
tion, is but a small symptom of the general 
situation. If any considerable number of Bur- 
mese or East Indians or Japanese should come, 
the situation would be the same, and it would be 
intensified with the increase of the numbers. 
They would not find the Americans inclined to 
make an open career for the Oriental talents. 

Ill 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Understand, I am not now condemning this 
state of affairs, nor am I defending it. That is 
not my business. I am simply trying to de- 
scribe it. How is it to be reconciled with the 
spirit of fair play? I do not know. Perhaps 
reconciliation is impossible. But a partial un- 
derstanding of the facts is possible, if you take 
into account the doctrine of inferior races. 

This doctrine is not held or defended by all 
Americans. Some on religious grounds, some 
on philosophic grounds, would deny it. But on 
the mass of the people it has a firm, though in 
part an unrecognised, hold. They believe — or 
perhaps feel would be a better word — that the 
white race has an innate superiority to the col- 
oured races. From this doctrine they have 
proceeded to draw conclusions, and curiously 
enough they have put them in the form of fair 
play. The Indians were not to be admitted to 
citizenship because they were the wards of the 
nation. The negroes were better off under 
slavery because they were like children, need- 
ing control and protection. They must still be 
kept in social dependence and tutelage because 
they would be safer and happier so. The Orien- 
tals were not fit for a share in American citizen- 
ship, and they should not be let in because they 
would simply give us another inferior race, to 
be taken care of. 


112 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


I do not propose to discuss the philosophical 
consistency of such arguments. It is diflScult to 
imagine what place Rousseau would have found 
for them in his doctrine of the state of nature 
and the rights of man. 

The truth is that the Spirit of America 
has never been profoundly impressed with the 
idea of philosophical consistency. The Repub- 
lic finds herself face to face not with a theory 
but with a condition. It is the immense mass of 
the African population that creates the difficulty 
for America. She means to give equal civil 
rights to her nine million negroes. She does not 
mean to let the black blood mix with the white. 
Whatever social division may be necessary to 
prevent this immense and formidable adultera- 
tion must be maintained intact. 

Here, it seems to me, is the supreme test 
which the Spirit of America has to meet. In a 
certain sense the problem appears insoluble be- 
cause it involves an insoluble race. But pre- 
cisely here, in the necessity of keeping the negro 
race distinct, and in the duty of giving it full 
opportunity for self-development, fair play may 
find the occasion for a most notable and noble 
triumph. 

I have left but a moment in which to speak 
of the influence of the kind of democracy which 
113 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


exists in America upon social conditions. In a 
word: it has produced a society of natural divi- 
sions without closed partitions, a temper of in- 
dependence which shows itself either as self- 
assertion or as self-respect according to the 
quality of the man, and an atmosphere of large 
opportunity which promotes general good hu- 
mour. 

In America, as elsewhere, people who have 
tastes and capacities in common, consort. An 
unlearned man will not find himself at ease in 
the habitual society of learned men who talk 
principally about books. A poor man will not 
feel comfortable if he attempts to keep company 
with those whose wealth has led them to im- 
merse themselves in costly amusements. This 
makes classes, if you like, ranks, if you choose 
to call them so. 

Moreover you will find that certain occupa- 
tions and achievements which men have gen- 
erally regarded with respect confer a kind of 
social distinction in America. Men who have 
become eminent in the learned professions, or in 
the army or navy, or in the higher sort of poli- 
tics; men who have won success in literature or 
the other fine arts; men who have done notable 
things of various kinds, — such persons are likely 
to know each other better and to be better known 
114 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 


to the world than if they had done nothing. 
Furthermore there are families in which this 
kind of thing has gone on from generation to 
generation; and others in which inherited wealth, 
moderate or great, has opened the way to cul- 
ture and refinement; and others in which newly 
acquired wealth has been used with generosity 
and dignity; and others in which the mere mass 
of money has created a noteworthy establish- 
ment. These various people, divided among 
themselves by their tastes, their opinions, and 
perhaps as much as anything else by their fa- 
vourite recreations, find their way into the red 
book of Who's Whoy into the blue book of the 
Social Register, Here, if you have an imagina- 
tive turn of mind, you may discover (and de- 
nounce, or applaud, or ridicule) the beginnings 
of an aristocracy. 

But if you use that word, remember that it is 
an aristocracy without legal privilege or pre- 
rogative, without definite boundaries, and with- 
out any rule of primogeniture. Therefore it 
seems to exist in the midst of democracy with- 
out serious friction or hostility. The typical 
American does not feel injured by the fact that 
another man is richer, better known, more influ- 
ential than himself, unless he believes that the 
eminence has been unfairly reached. He re- 
115 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


spects those who respect themselves and him. 
He is ready to meet the men who are above him 
without servility, and the men who are beneath 
him without patronage. 

True, he is sometimes a little hazy about the 
precise definition of ‘‘above” and “beneath.” 
His feeling that all the doors are open may lead 
him to act as if he had already passed through 
a good many of them. There is at times an 
“I-could-if-I-would” air about him which is 
rather disconcerting. 

There are great differences among Americans, 
of course, in regard to manners, ranging all the 
way from the most banal formality to the most 
exquisite informality. But in general you may 
say that manners are taken rather lightly, too 
lightly, perhaps, because they are not regarded 
as very real things. Their value as a means of 
discipline is often forgotten. The average Amer- 
ican will not blush very deeply over a social 
blunder; he will laugh at it as a mistake in a 
game. But really to hurt you, or to lower his 
own independence, would make him feel badly 
indeed. 

The free-and-easy atmosphere of the streets, 
the shops, the hotels, all public places, always 
strikes the foreigner, and sometimes very un- 
comfortably. The conductor on the railway 
car will not touch his hat to you; but, on the 
116 


FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY 

other hand, he does not expect a tip from you. 
The workman on the street of whom you ask 
a question will answer you as an equal, but he 
will tell you what you want to know. In the 
country the tone of familiarity is even more 
marked. If you board for the summer with a 
Yankee farmer, you can see that he not only 
thinks himself as good as you are, but that he 
cultivates a slightly artificial pity for you as 
‘‘city folks.” 

In American family life there is often an ab- 
sence of restraint and deference, in school and 
college life a lack of discipline and subordina- 
tion, which looks ugly, and probably is rather 
unwholesome. One sometimes regrets in Amer- 
ica the want of those tokens of respect which 
are the outward and visible sign of an inward 
and spiritual grace. 

But, on the other hand, there is probably 
more good feeling, friendliness, plain human 
kindness, running around loose in America than 
anywhere else in the world. The sense of the 
essential equality of manhood takes away much 
of the sting of the inequalities of fortune. The 
knowledge of the open door reduces the offence 
of the stairway. It is pleasant and wholesome 
to live with men who have a feeling of the dig- 
nity and worth of their own occupations. 

Our letter-carrier at Princeton never made 
117 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


any diflFerence in his treatment of my neighbour 
President Cleveland and myself. He was equally 
kind to both of us, and I may add equally cheer- 
ful in rendering little friendly services outside 
of his strict duty. My guides in the backwoods 
of Maine and the Adirondacks regard me as a 
comrade who curiously enough makes his liv- 
ing by writing books, but who also shows that 
he knows the real value of life by spending his. 
vacation in the forest. As a matter of fact, 
they think much more of their own skill with 
the axe and paddle than of my supposed ability 
with the pen. They have not a touch of sub- 
servience in their manner or their talk. They 
do their work willingly. They carry the packs, 
and chop the wood, and spread the tents, and 
make the bed of green boughs. And then, at 
night, around the camp-fire, they smoke their 
pipes with me, and the only question is. Who 
can tell the best story? 


118 


IV 

WILI^POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 


rpHE Spirit of America is best known in 
^ Europe by one of its qualities, — energy. 
This is supposed to be so vast, so abnormal, 
that it overwhelms and obliterates all other 
qualities, and acts almost as a blind force, driv- 
ing the whole nation along the highroad of un- 
remitting toil for the development of physical 
power and the accumulation of material wealth. 

La vie intense — ^which is the polite French 
translation of ‘‘the strenuous life” — is regarded 
as the unanimous choice of the Americans, who 
are supposed to be never happy unless they are 
doing something, and never satisfied imtil they 
have made a great deal of money. The current 
view in Europe considers them as a well-mean- 
ing people enslaved by their own restless activ- 
ity, bound to the service of gigantic industries, 
and captive to the adoration of a golden idol. 
But curiously enough they are often supposed 
to be unconscious both of the slavery and of 
the idolatry;, in weaving the shackles of indus- 
trious materialism they imagine themselves to 
119 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


be free and strong; in bowing down to the 
Almighty Dollar they ignorantly worship an 
unknown god. 

This European view of American energy, and 
its inexplicable nature, and its terrible results, 
seems to have something of the fairy tale about 
it. It is like the story of a giant, dreadful, but 
not altogether convincing; It lacks discrimina- 
tion. In one point, at least, it is palpably in- 
correct. And with that point I propose to be- 
gin a more careful, and perhaps a more sane, 
consideration of the whole subject. 

It is evidently not true that America is igno- 
rant of the dangers that accompany her im- 
mense development of energy and its applica- 
tion in such large measure to material ends. 
Only the other day I was reading a book by an 
American about his country, which paints the 
picture in colours as fierce and forms as terrify- 
ing as the most modem of French decadent 
painters would use. 

The author says: ‘‘There stands America, en- 
gaged in this superb struggle to dominate Na- 
ture and put the elements into bondage to man. 
Involuntarily all talents apply themselves to 
material production. No wonder that men of 
science no longer study Nature for Nature’s 
sake; they must perforce put her powers into 
harness; no wonder that professors no longer 
120 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

teach knowledge for the sake of knowledge; they 
must make their students efficient factors in the 
industrial world; no wonder that clergymen no 
longer preach repentance for the sake of the 
kingdom of heaven; they must turn churches 
into prosperous corporations, multiplying com- 
municants and distributing Christmas presents 
by the gross. Industrial civilization has decreed 
that statesmanship shall consist of schemes to 
make the nation richer, that presidents shall be 
elected with a view to the stock-market, that 
literature shall keep close to the life of the 
average man, and that art shall become national 
by means of a protective tariff. . . . 

‘‘The process of this civilization is simple: the 
industrial habit of thought moulds the opinion 
of the majority, which rolls along, abstract and 
impersonal, gathering bulk till its giant figure is 
selected as the national conscience. As in an 
ecclesiastical state of society decrees of a coun- 
cil become articles of private faith, and men die 
for homoousion or election, so in America the 
opinions of the majority, once pronounced, be- 
come primary rules of conduct. . . . The cen- 
tral ethical doctrine of industrial thought is that 
material production is the chief duty of man.” 

The author goes on to show that the accep- 
tance of this doctrine has produced in America 
121 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


^^conventional sentimentality^^ in the emotional 
life, ''spiritual feebleness'' in the rehgious life, 
"formlessness" in the social life, "self-deception" 
in the political life, and a "slovenly intelligence" 
in all matters outside of business. ‘‘We accept 
sentimentality,” he says, “because we do not 
stop to consider whether our emotional life is 
worth an infusion of blood and vigour, rather 
than because we have deliberately decided that 
it is not. We neglect religion, because we can- 
not spare time to think what religion means, 
rather than because we judge it only worth a 
conventional lip service. We think poetry effem- 
inate, because we do not read it, rather than 
because we believe its effect injurious. We have 
been swept off our feet by the brilliant success 
of our industrial civilization; and, blinded by 
vanity, we enumerate the list of our exports, 
we measure the swelling tide of our national 
prosperity; but we do not stop even to repeat 
to ourselves the names of other things.” 

This rather sweeping indictment against a 
whole civilization reminds me of the way in 
which one of my students once defined rhetoric. 
“Rhetoric,” said this candid youth, “is the art 
of using words so as to make statements which 
are not entirely correct look like truths which 
nobody can deny.” 




WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

The description of America given by her sad 
and angry friend resembles one of those relent- 
less portraits which are made by rustic photog- 
raphers. The unmitigated sunlight does its 
worst through an unadjusted lens; and the re- 
sult is a picture which is fearfully and wonder- 
fully made. ‘"It looks like her,” you say, “it 
looks horribly hke her. But thank God I never 
saw her look just like that.” 

No one can deny that the life of America has 
developed more rapidly and more fully on the 
industrial side than on any other. No one can 
deny that the larger part, if not the better part, 
of her energy and efiPort has gone into the physi- 
cal conquest of nature and the transformation 
of natural resources into material wealth. No 
one can deny that this undue absorption in one 
side of life has resulted in a certain meagreness 
and thinness on other sides. No one can deny 
that the immense prosperity of America, and 
her extraordinary success in agriculture, manu- 
factures, commerce, and finance have produced 
a swollen sense of importance, which makes the 
country peddler feel as if he deserved some 
credit for the $ 450 , 000,000 balance of foreign 
trade in favour of the United States in 1907 , 
and the barber’s apprentice congratulate him- 
self that American wealth is reckoned at $ 116 ,- 
123 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


000,000,000, nearly twice that of the next rich- 
est country in the world. This feeling is one 
that has its roots in human nature. The very 
cabin-boy on a monstrous ocean steamship is 
proud of its tonnage and speed. 

But that this spirit is not universal nor ex- 
clusive, that there are some Americans who are 
not satisfied — ^who are even rather bitterly dis- 
satisfied — ^with $116,000,000,000* as a statement 
of national achievement, the book from which 
I have quoted may be taken as a proof. There 
are still better proofs to be found, I think, in 
the earnestly warning voices which come from 
press and pulpit against the dangers of com- 
mercialism, and in the hundreds of thousands 
of noble lives which are freely consecrated to 
ideals in religion, in philanthropy, in the service 
of man’s intellectual and moral needs. These 
services are ill-paid in America, as indeed they 
are everywhere, but there is no lack of men 
and women who are ready and glad to under- 
take them. 

I was talking to a young man and woman the 
other day, both thoroughbred Americans, who 
had resolved to enter upon the adventure of 
matrimony together. The question was whether 
he should accept an opening in business with a 
fair outlook for making a fortune, or take a 

* 1908 . 

124 


WILD-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

position as teacher in a school with a possible 
chance at best of earning a comfortable living. 
They asked my advice. I put the alternatives 
as clearly as I could. On the one hand, a lot 
of money for doing work that was perfectly 
honest, but not at all congenial. On the other 
hand, small pay in the beginning, and no chance 
of ever receiving more than a modest com- 
petence for doing work that was rather hard 
but entirely congenial. They did not hesitate 
a moment. ‘‘We shall get more out of life,” 
they said with one accord, “if our work makes 
us happy, than if we get big pay for doing what 
we do not love to do.” They were not excep- 
tional. They were typical of the best young 
Americans. The noteworthy thing is that both 
of them took for granted the necessity of doing 
something as long as they lived. The notion of 
a state of idleness, either as a right or as a re- 
ward, never entered their blessed young minds. 

In later lectures I shall speak of some of the 
larger evidences in education, in social effort, 
and in literature, which encourage the hope 
that the emotional life of America is not alto- 
gether a “conventional sentimentality,” nor 
her spiritual life a complete “feebleness,” nor 
her intelligence entirely “slovenly.” But just 
now we have to consider the real reason and 
125 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

significance of the greater strength, the fuller 
development of the industrial life. Let us try 
to look at it clearly and logically. My wish is 
not to accuse, nor to defend, but first of all to 
understand. 

The astonishing industrial advance of the 
United States, and the predominance of this 
motive in the national life, come from the third 
element in the spirit of America, vnll-powery 
that vital energy of nature which makes an 
ideal of activity and efficiency. ‘‘The man who 
does things” is the man whom the average 
American admires. 

No doubt the original conditions of the na- 
tion’s birth and growth were potent in direct- 
ing this will-power, in transforming this energy 
into forces of a practical and material kind. 
A new land offered the opportunity, a wild 
land presented the necessity, a rich land held 
out the reward, to men who were eager to do 
something. But though the outward circum- 
stances may have moulded and developed the 
energy, they did not create it. 

Mexico and South America were new lands, 
wild lands, rich lands. They are not far in- 
ferior, if at all, to the United States in soil, 
climate, and natural resources. They presented 
126 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

tlie same kind of opportunity, necessity, and 
reward to their settlers and conquerors. Yet 
they have seen nothing like the same industrial 
advance. Why ? There may be many reasons. 
But I am sure that the most important reasons 
lie in the soul of the people, and that one of 
them is the lack, in the republics of the South, 
of that strong and confident will-power which 
has made the Americans a nation of hard and 
quick workers. 

This fondness for the active life, this impulse 
to ‘‘do things,” this sense of value in the thing 
done, does not seem to be an affair of recent 
growth in America. It is an ancestral qual- 
ity. 

The men of the Revolution were almost all 
of them busy and laborious persons, whether 
they were rich or poor. Read the autobiography 
of Benjamin Franklin, and you will find that 
he was as proud of the fact that he was a good 
printer and that he invented a new kind of stove 
as of anything else in his career. One of his 
life mottoes under the head of industry is: 
“Lose no time; be always employed in some- 
thing useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.” 
Washington, retiring from his second term in 
the presidency, did not seek a well-earned ease, 
but turned at once to the active improvement 
127 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


of his estate. He was not only the richest man, 
he was one of the best practical farmers in 
America. His diary shows how willingly and 
steadily he rode his daily rounds, cultivated 
his crops, sought to improve the methods of 
agriculture and the condition and efficiency of 
his work-people. And this primarily not be- 
cause he wished to add to his wealth, — ^for he 
was a childless man and a person of modest 
habits, — ^but because he felt ^^ilfaut cuUiver son 
jardin,'^ 

After the nation had defended its indepen- 
dence and consolidated its union, its first effort 
was to develop and extend its territory. It 
was little more than a string of widely separated 
settlements along the Atlantic coast. Some 
one has called it a country without an interior. 
The history of the pioneers who pushed over 
the mountains of the Blue Ridge and the Alle- 
ghanies, into the forests of Tennessee and Ken- 
tucky, into the valleys of the Ohio and the 
Mississippi, and so on to the broad rolling 
prairies of the West, is not without an interest 
to those who feel the essential romance of the 
human will in a world of intractable things. 
The transformation of the Indian’s hunting 
trail into the highroad, with its train of creak- 
ing, white-topped wagons, and of the highroad 
128 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

into the railway, with its incessant, swift-rush- 
ing caravans of passengers and freight; the 
growth of enormous cities like Chicago and St. 
Louis in places that three generations ago were 
a habitation for wild geese and foxes; the har- 
nessing of swift and mighty rivers to turn the 
wheels of innumerable factories; the passing of 
the Great American Desert, which once occu- 
pied the centre of our map, into the pasture- 
ground of countless flocks and herds, and the 
grain-field where the bread grows for many 
nations, — all this, happening in a hundred years, 
has an air of enchantment about it. What 
wonder that the American people have been 
fascinated, perhaps even a little intoxicated, 
by the effect of their own will-power ? 

In 1850 they were comparatively a poor 
people, with only $7,000,000,000 of national 
wealth, less than $308 per capita. In 1906 they 
had become a rich people, with $107,000,000,000 
of national wealth, more than $1300 per capita. 
In 1850 they manufactured $1,000,000,000 worth 
of goods, in 1906 $14,000,000,000 worth. In 
1850 they imported $173,000,000 worth of mer- 
chandise and exported $144,000,000 worth. In 
1906 the figures had changed to $1,700,000,000 
of merchandise exports and $1,200,000,000 of 
imports. That is to say, in one year America 
129 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


sold to other nations six dollars’ worth 'per capita 
more than she needed to buy from them. 

I use these figures, not because I find them 
particularly interesting or philosophically sig- 
nificant, but because the mere size of them 
illustrates, and perhaps explains, a point that 
is noteworthy in the development of will-power 
in the American people: and that is its char- 
acteristic spirit of magnificence, I take this 
word for want of a better, and employ it, ac- 
cording to its derivation, to signify the desire 
to do things on a large scale. This is a spirit 
which is growing everywhere in the modern 
civilized world. Everywhere, if I mistake not, 
quantity is taking precedence of quality in the 
popular thought. Everywhere men are carried 
away by the attraction of huge enterprises, 
immense combinations, enormous results. One 
reason is that Nature herself seems to have put 
a premium upon the mere mass of things. In 
the industrial world it appears as if Napoleon 
were right in his observation that ‘‘God is on 
the side of the big battalions.” Another reason 
is the strange, almost hypnotic, effect that num- 
ber has upon the human mind. 

But while the spirit of “the large scale” is 
gaining all over the world, among the Americans 
it seems to be innate and most characteristic. 

130 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

Perhaps the very size of their country may have 
had something to do with this. The habit of 
dealing with land in terms of the square mile 
and the quarter-section, instead of in the terms 
of the are and the hectare; the subconscious 
effect of owning the longest river and the largest 
lakes in the world may have developed a half- 
humorous, half-serious sense of necessity for 
doing things magnificently in order to keep in 
proportion with the natural surroundings. A 
well-known American wit, who had a slight 
impediment in his speech, moved his residence 
from Baltimore to New York. ‘"Do you make 
as many jokes here,” asked a friend, “as you 
used to make in Baltimore?” “M-m-more!” 
he answered; “b-b-bigger town !” 

To produce more com and cotton than all 
the rest of the world together, to have a wheat 
crop which is more than double that of any 
other country; to mine a million tons of coal a 
year in excess of any rival; to double Germany’s 
output of steel and iron and to treble Great 
Britain’s output, — these are things which give 
the American spirit the sense of living up to 
its opportunities. 

It likes to have the tallest buildings in the 
world. New York alone contains (1908) more 
than twenty-five architectural eruptions of more 
131 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


than twenty stories each. There is an edifice 
now completed which is 909 feet in height. One 
is planned which will be 1000 feet tall, 16 feet 
taller than the Eiffel Tower. This new build- 
ing will not be merely to gratify (or to shock) 
the eye like the Parisian monument of magnifi- 
cence in architecture. “The Eiffel Tower,” says 
the American, “is not a real sky-scraper, gratte- 
del; it is only a sky-tickler, chatouille-del ; 
nothing more than a joke which man has played 
with the law of gravitation. But our American 
tall building will be strictly for business, a seri- 
ous affair, the ojBBce of a great life-insurance 
company.” There is a single American factory 
which makes 1500 railway locomotives every 
year. There is a company for the manufacture 
of harvesting-machines in Chicago whose plant 
covers 140 acres, whose employees number 
24,000, and whose products go all over the 
world. 

Undoubtedly it was the desire to promote 
industrial development that led to the adoption 
of the protective tariff as an American policy. 
The people wanted to do things, to do all sorts 
of things, and to do them on a large scale. 
They were not satisfied to be merely farmers, 
or miners, or fishermen, or sailors, or lumber- 
132 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

men. They wished to exercise their energy in 
all possible ways, and to secure their prosperity 
by learning how to do everything necessary for 
themselves. They began to lay duties upon 
goods manufactured in Europe in order to make 
a better market at home for goods manufactured 
in America. ‘‘Protection of infant industries” 
was the idea that guided them. There have 
been occasional intervals when the other idea, 
that of liberty for needy consumers to buy in 
the cheapest market, has prevailed, and tariffs 
have been reduced. But in general the effort 
has been not only to raise a large part of the 
national income by duties on imports, but also 
to enhance the profits of native industries by 
putting a handicap on foreign competition. 

There can be no question that the result has 
been to foster the weaker industries and make 
them strong, and actually to create some new 
fields for American energy to work in. For 
example, in 1891 there was not a pound of tin- 
plate made in the United States, and 1,000,000,- 
000 pounds a year were imported. The McKin- 
ley tariff put on an import duty of 70 per cent. 
In 1901 only a little over 100,000,000 pounds 
of tin-plate were imported, and nearly 900,000,- 
000 pounds were made in America. The same 
thing happened in the manufacture of watches. 

133 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


A duty of 25 per cent on the foreign article gave 
the native manufacturer a profit, encouraged 
the development of better machinery, and made 
the American watch tick busily around the 
world. But now (1908) the duty is 40 per cent 
ad valorem. 

No one in the United States would deny these 
facts. No one, outside of academic circles, 
would call himself an absolute, unmitigated, 
and immediate free-trader. But a great many 
people, probably the majority of the Democratic 
party, and a considerable number in the Re- 
publican party, say to-day that many of the 
protective features of the tariff have largely 
accomplished their purpose and gone beyond 
it; that they have not only nourished weak in- 
dustries, but have also overstimulated strong 
ones; that their continuance creates special 
privileges in the commercial world, raises the 
cost of the necessities of life to the poor man, 
tends to the promotion of gigantic trusts and 
monopolies, and encourages overproduction, with 
all its attendant evils enchanced by an arti- 
ficially sustained market. 

They ask why a ton of American steel rail 
should cost twenty-six or twenty-seven dollars 
in the country where it is made, and only twenty 
dollars when sold in Europe (1908). They in- 
134 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

quire why a citizen of Chicago or St. Louis has 
to pay more for an American sewing-machine 
or clock than a citizen of Stockholm or Copen- 
hagen pays for the same article. They say that 
a heavy burden has been laid upon the common 
people by a system of indirect taxation, adopted 
for a special purpose, and maintained long after 
that purpose has been fulfilled. They claim that 
for every dollar which this system yields to the 
national revenue it adds four or five dollars to 
the profits of the trusts and corporations. If 
they are cautious by temperament, they say 
that they are in favour of moderate tariff re- 
vision. If they are bold, they announce their 
adherence to the doctrine of ‘‘tariff for revenue 
only,” or free trade. 

The extent to which these views have gained 
ground among the American people may be 
seen in the platforms of both political parties in 
the presidential contest of 1908. Both declare 
in favour of a reduction in the tariff. The Re- 
publicans are for continued protective duties, 
with revision of the schedules and the adoption 
of maximum and minimum rates, to be used in 
obtaining advantages from other nations. The 
Democrats are for placing products which are 
controlled by trusts on the free list; for lowering 
the duty upon all the necessaries of life at once; 

135 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and for a gradual reduction of the schedules to 
a revenue basis. The Democrats are a shade 
more radical than the Republicans. But both 
sides are a little reserved, a little afraid to de- 
clare themselves frankly and unequivocally, a 
good deal inclined to make their first appeal to 
the American passion for industrial activity and 
prosperity. 

Personally I should like to see this reserve 
vanish. I should like to see an out-and-out 
campaign on the protection which our indus- 
tries need compared with that which they want 
and get. It would clear the air. It would be 
a campaign of education. I remember what the 
greatest iron-master of America — Mr. Andrew 
Carnegie — said to me in 1893 when we were 
travelling in Egypt. It was in the second term 
of Cleveland’s administration, when the pros- 
pect of tariff reduction was imminent. I asked 
him if he was not afraid that the duty on steel 
would be reduced to a point that would ruin his 
business. ‘‘Not a bit,” he answered, “and I 
have told the President so. The tariff was made 
for the protection of infant industries. But the 
steel business of America is not an infant. It 
is a giant. It can take care of itself.” Since 
that time the United States Steel Corporation 
has been formed, with a capitalisation of about 
136 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

fifteen hundred million dollars of bonds and 
stock, and the import duty on manufactured 
iron and steel is 45 per cent ad valorem. 

Another effect of the direction of American 
energy to industrial affairs has been important 
not only to the United States but to all the na- 
tions of the world. I mean the powerful stim- 
ulus which it has given to invention. People 
with restless minds and a strong turn for busi- 
ness are always on the lookout for new things 
to do and new ways of doing them. The natural 
world seems to them like a treasure-house with 
locked doors which it is their duty and privilege 
to unlock. No sooner is a new force discovered 
than they want to slip a collar over it and put 
it to work. No sooner is a new machine made 
than they are anxious to improve it. 

The same propensity makes a public ready 
to try new devices, and to adopt them promptly 
as soon as they prove useful. “Yankee no- 
tions” is a slang name that was once applied 
to all sorts of curious and novel trifles in a ped- 
dler’s stock. But to-day there are a hundred 
Yankee notions without the use of which the 
world’s work would go on much more slowly. 
The cotton-gin takes the seeds from seven thou- 
sand pounds of cotton in just the same time 
137 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


that a hand picker formerly needed to clean a 
pound and a half. An American harvesting- 
machine rolls through a wheat-field, mowing, 
threshing, and winnowing the wheat, and pack- 
ing it in bags, faster than a score of hands could 
do the work. The steamboat, the sewing-ma- 
chine, the electric telegraph, the type-writer, 
the telephone, the incandescent light, — these 
are some of the things with which American 
ingenuity and energy have been busy for the 
increase of man’s efficiency and power in the 
world of matter. The mysterious force or fluid 
which Franklin first drew quietly to the earth 
with his little kite and his silken cord has been 
put to a score of tasks which Franklin never 
dreamed of. And in the problem of aerial navi- 
gation, which is now so much in the air every- 
where, it looks as if American inventors might 
be the first to reach a practical solution.* 

I do not say that this indicates greatness. I 
say only that it shows the presence in the Spirit 
of America of a highly developed will-power, 
strong, active, restless, directed with intensity 
to practical affairs. The American inventor 
is not necessarily, nor primarily, a man who is 
out after money. He is hunting a different 
kind of game, and one which interests him far 

*They were: Wilbur and Orville Wright. 

138 


WILI^POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

more deeply : a triumph over nature, a conquest 
of time or space, the training of a wild force, 
or the discovery of a new one. He likes money, 
of course. Most men do. But the thing that 
he most loves is to take a trick in man’s long 
game with the obstinacy of matter. 

Edison is a typical American in this. He has 
made money, to be sure; but very little in com- 
parison with what other men have made out 
of his inventions. And what he gains by one 
experiment he is always ready to spend on an- 
other, to risk in a new adventure. His real re- 
ward lies in the sense of winning a little victory 
over this secretive world, of taking another step 
in the subjugation of things to the will of man. 

There is probably no country where new in- 
ventions, labour-saving devices, improved ma- 
chinery, are as readily welcomed and as quickly 
taken up as in America. The farmer wants 
the newest plough, the best reaper and mower. 
His wife must have a sewing-machine of the 
latest model; his daughter a pianola; his son 
an electric runabout or a motor-cycle. The fac- 
tories are always throwing out old machinery 
and putting in new. The junk-heap is enor- 
mous. The waste looks frightful; and so it 
would be, if it were not directed to a purpose 
which in the end makes it a saving. 

139 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


American cities are always in a state of transi- 
tion. Good buildings are pulled down to make 
room for better ones. My wife says that ‘‘New 
York will be a delightful place to live in when 
it is finished.” But it will never be finished. 
It is like Tennyson’s description of the mystical 
city of Camelot: — 

always building^ 
Therefore never to he built at alU^ 

But unlike Camelot, it is not built to music, — 
rather to an accompaniment of various and 
dreadful noise. 

Even natural catastrophes which fall upon 
cities in America seem to be almost welcomed 
as an invitation to improve them. A fire laid 
the business portion of Baltimore in ashes a 
few years ago. Before the smoke had dispersed, 
the Baltimoreans were saying, “Now we can 
have wider streets and larger stores.” An earth- 
quake shook San Francisco to pieces. The 
people were stunned for a few days. Then 
they rubbed the dust out of their eyes, and 
said, “This time we shall know how to build 
better.” 

The high stimulation of will-power in America 
has had the effect of quickening the general pace 
140 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

of life to a rate that always astonishes and some- 
times annoys the European visitor. The move- 
ment of things and people is rapid, incessant, 
bewildering. There is a rushing tide of life in 
the streets, a nervous tension in the air. Busi- 
ness is transacted with swift despatch and close 
attention. The preliminary compliments and 
courtesies are eliminated. WTiether you want 
to buy a paper of pins, or a thousand shares of 
stock, it is done quickly. I remember that I 
once had to wait an hour in the Ottoman Bank 
at Damascus to get a thousand francs on my 
letter of credit. The courteous director gave 
me coflFee and delightful talk. In New York 
the transaction would not have taken five min- 
utes, — but there would have been no coffee 
and brief conversation. 

Of course the rate of speed varies considerably 
in different parts of the country. In the South 
it is much slower than in the North and the 
West. In the rural districts you will often find 
the old-fashioned virtues of delay and delibera- 
tion carried to an exasperating point of perfec- 
tion. Even among the American cities there is 
a difference in the rapidity of the pulse of life. 
New York and Chicago have the name of the 
swiftest towns. Philadelphia has a traditional 
reputation for a calm that borders on somno- 
141 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


lence. ‘‘How many children have you?’’ some 
one asked a Chicagoan. “Four,” was his an- 
swer; “three living, and one in Philadelphia.” 

I was reading only a few days ago an amus- 
ing description of the impression which the 
American pas-redouble of existence made upon 
an amiable French observer, M. Hugues Le 
Roux, one of the lecturers who came to the 
United States on the Hyde foundation. He 
says: — 

“Everywhere you see the signs of shopkeepers 
who promise to do a lot of things for you ^ while 
you wait.' The tailor will press your coat, the 
hatter will block your hat, the shoemaker will 
mend your shoe , — while you wait. At the bar- 
ber shops the spectacle becomes irresistibly 
comic. The American throws himself back in 
an arm-chair to be shaved, while another artist 
cuts his hair; at the same time his two feet are 
stretched out to a bootblack, and his two hands 
are given up to a manicure. . . . 

“If ‘Step lively’ is the first exclamation that 
a foreigner hears on leaving the steamship, 
‘Quick’ is the second. Everything here is quick. 
In the business quarter you read in the windows 
of the restaurants, as their only guarantee of 
culinary excellence, this alluring promise: 
‘Quick lunch !’ . . . 


142 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

“The American is bom 'quick’; works 
‘quick’; eats ‘quick’; decides ‘quick’; gets 
rich ‘quick’; and dies ‘quick.’ I will add that 
he is buried ‘quick.’ Funerals cross the city 
au triple galop 

So far as it relates to the appearance of things, 
what the philosopher would call the phenomenal 
world, this is a good, though slightly exaggerated, 
description. I have never been so fortunate as 
to see a man getting a “shave” and a “hair- 
cut” at the same moment; and it seems a little 
difficult to understand precisely how these two 
operations could be performed simultaneously, 
unless the man wore a wig. But if it can be 
done, no doubt the Americans will learn to 
have it done that way. As for the hair-cutter, 
the manicure, and the bootblack, the combina- 
tion of their services is already an accomplished 
fact, made possible by the kindness of nature 
in placing the head, the hands, and the feet at 
a convenient distance from one another. Even 
the Parisian barbers have taken advantage of 
this fact. They sell you a bottle of hair tonic 
at the same time. 

It is true that the American moves rapidly. 
But if you should infer from these surface in- 
dications that he i^ always in a hurry, you would 
make a mistake. His fundamental philosophy 
143 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


is that you must be quick sometimes if you do 
not wish to be hurried always. You must con- 
dense, you must eliminate, you must save time 
on the little things in order that you may have 
more time for the larger things. He systema- 
tises his correspondence, the labour of his oflBce, 
all the details of his business, not for the sake 
of system, but for the sake of getting through 
with his work. 

Over his desk hangs a printed motto: ‘‘This 
is my busy day.” He does not like to arrive at 
the railway station fifteen minutes before the 
departure of his train, because he has something 
else that he would rather do with those fifteen 
minutes. He does not like to spend an hour in 
the barber-shop, because he wishes to get out 
to his country club in good time for a game of 
golf and a shower-bath afterward. He likes 
to have a full life, in which one thing connects 
with another promptly and neatly, without un- 
necessary intervals. His characteristic attitude 
is not that of a man in a hurry, but that of a 
man concentrated on the thing in hand in order 
to save time. 

President Roosevelt has described this Ameri- 
can trait in his familiar phrase, “the strenuous 
life.” In a man of ardent and impetuous tem- 
perament it may seem at times to have an ac- 
144 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

cent of overstrain. Yet this is doubtless more 
in appearance than in reality. There is probably 
no man in the world who has comfortably gotten 
through with more work and enjoyed more play 
than he has. 

But evidently this American type of life has 
its great drawbacks and disadvantages. In 
eliminating the intervals it is likely to lose some 
of the music of existence. In laying such a 
heavy stress upon the value of action it is likely 
to overlook the part played by reflection, by 
meditation, by tranquil consideration in a sane 
and well-rounded character. 

The critical faculty is not that in which 
Americans excel. By this I do not mean to 
say that they do not find fault. They do, and 
often with vigour and acerbity. But fault- 
finding is not criticism in the true sense of the 
word. Criticism is a disinterested effort to see 
things as they really are, to understand their 
causes, their relations, their effects. In this 
effort the French intelligence seems more at 
home, more penetrating, better balanced than 
the American. 

Minds of the type of Sainte Beuve or Brune- 
tiere are not common, I suppose, even in France. 
But in America they are still more rare. Clear, 
intelligent, thoroughgoing, well-balanced critics 
145 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


are not much in evidence in the United States; 
first, because the genius of the country does not 
tend to produce them; and second, because the 
taste of the people does not incline to listen to 
them. 

There is a spirit in the air which constantly 
cries, ‘‘Act, act!” 

*‘Let us still be up and doing. 

The gentle voice of that other spirit which 
whispers, “Consider, that thou mayest be wise,” 
is often unheard or unheeded. 

It is plain that the restless impulse to the 
active life, coming from the inward fountain of 
will-power, must make heavy drafts upon its 
source, and put a severe strain upon the chan- 
nels by which it is conveyed. The nerves are 
worn and frayed by constant pressure. America 
is the country of young men, but many of them 
look old before their time. Nervous exhaustion 
is common. Neurasthenia, I believe, is called 
“the American disease.” 

Yet, curiously enough, it was in France that 
the best treatment of this disease was developed, 
and one of the most famous practitioners. Dr. 
Charcot, died, if I mistake not, of the complaint 
to the cure of which he had given his life. In 
spite of the fact that nervous disorders are com- 
146 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

mon among Americans, they do not seem to 
lead to an unusual number of cases of mental 
wreck. I have been looking into the statistics 
of insanity. The latest figures that I have been 
able to find are as follows: In 1900 the United 
States had 106,500 insane persons in a popula- 
tion of 76,000,000. In 1896 Great Britain and 
Ireland had 128,800 in a population of 37,000,- 
000. In 1884 France had 93,900 in a popula- 
tion of 40,000,000. That would make about 
328 insane persons in 100,000 for Great Britain, 
235 in 100,000 for France, 143 in 100,000 for 
America. 

Nor does the wear and tear of American life, 
great as it may be, seem to kill people with 
extraordinary rapidity. As a matter of fact, 
M. Le Roux was led away by the allurements 
of his own style when he wrote that the Ameri- 
can “dies quick.’’ In 1900 the annual death- 
rate per 1000 in Austria was 25, in Italy 23, 
in Germany 22, in France 21, in Belgium 19, 
in Great Britain 18, and in the United States 
17. In America the average age at death in 
1890 was 31 years; in 1900 it was 35 years. 
Other things, such as climate, sanitation, hy- 
giene, have to be taken into account in reading 
these figures. But after making all allowance 
for these things, the example of America does 
147 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


not indicate that an active, busy, quick-moving 
life is necessarily a short one. On the contrary, 
hard work seems to be wholesome. Employed 
energy favours longevity. 

But what about the amount of pleasure, of 
real joy, of inward satisfaction that a man gets 
out of life? Who can make a general estimate 
in a matter which depends so much upon indi- 
vidual temperament ? Certainly there are some 
deep and quiet springs of happiness which look 
as if they were in danger of being choked and 
lost, or at least which do not flow as fully and 
freely as one could wish, in America. 

The tranquil pleasure of the household where 
parents and children meet in intimate, well- 
ordered, affectionate and graceful fellowship — 
the foyer y as the best French people understand 
and cherish it — is not as frequent in America 
as it might be, nor as it used to be. There are 
still many sweet and refreshing homes, to be 
sure. But “the home” as a national institu- 
tion, the centre and the source of life, is being 
crowded out a little. Children as well as par- 
ents grow too busy for it. 

Human intercourse, also, suffers from the lack 
of leisure, and detachment, and delight in the 
interchange of ideas. The average American is 
not silent. He talks freely and sometimes well, 
148 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

but he usually does it with a practical purpose. 
Political debate and business discussion are much 
more in his line than general conversation. 
Thus he too often misses what Montaigne and 
Samuel Johnson both called one of the qhief 
joys of life, — ‘"a good talk.” I remember one 
morning, after a certain dinner in New York, 
an acquaintance who was one of the company 
met me, and said, “Do you know that we dined 
last night with thirty milUons of dollars?” 
“Yes,” I said, “and we had conversation to the 
amount of about thirty cents.” 

Popular recreations and amusements, plea- 
sures of the simpler kind such as are shared 
by masses of people on public holidays, do not 
seem to afford as much relaxation and refresh- 
ment in America as they do in Germany or 
France. Children do not take as much part in 
them. There is an air of effort about them, as 
if the minds of the people were not quite free 
from care. The Englishman is said to take his 
pleasure sadly. The American is apt to take 
his strenuously. 

Understand, in all this I am speaking in the 
most general way, and of impressions which can 
hardly be defined, and which certainly cannot 
be mathematically verified. I know very well 
that there are many exceptions to what I have 
149 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


been saying. There are plenty of quiet rooms 
in America, club-rooms, college-rooms, book- 
rooms, parlours, where you will find the best 
kind of talk. There are houses full of children 
who are both well-bred and happy. There are 
people who know how to play, with a free heart, 
not for the sake of winning, but for the pleasure 
of the game. 

Yet I think it true that a strong will-power 
directed chiefly to industrial success has had a 
hardening effect upon the general tone of life. 
Unless you really love work for its own sake, 
you will not be very happy in America. The 
idea of a leisure class is not fully acclimatised 
there. Men take it for granted that there must 
be something useful for them to do in the world, 
even though they may not have to earn a living. 

This brings me to the last point of which I 
wish to speak: the result of will-power and 
work in the production of wealth, and the real 
status of the Almighty Dollar in the United 
States. 

The enormous increase of wealth has been 
accompanied by an extraordinary concentra- 
tion of it in forms which make it more powerful 
and impressive. Moody’s Manual of Corpora’- 
lion Statistics says that there are four hundred 
and forty large industrial, franchise, and trans- 
150 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

portation trusts, of an important and active 
character, with a floating capital of over twenty 
billion dollars. When we remember that each 
of these corporations is in the eye of the law 
a person, and is able to act as a person in finan- 
cial, industrial, and political affairs, we begin 
to see the tremendous significance of the fig- 
ures. 

But we must remember also that the growth 
of individual fortunes and of family estates has 
been equally extraordinary. Millionnaires are 
no longer counted. It is the multi-millionnaires 
who hold the centre of the stage. The New York 
World Almamac (1908) gives a list of sixteen of 
these families of vast wealth, tracing the descent 
of their children and grandchildren with scrupu- 
lous care, as if for an Almanack de Gotha. I 
suppose that another list might be made twice 
as large, — three or four times as large, — who 
knows how large, — of people whose fortune runs 
up into the tens of millions. 

These men have a vast power in American 
finance and industry, not only by the personal 
possession of money, but also through the con- 
trol of the great trusts, railroads, banks, in 
which they have invested it. The names of 
many of them are familiar throughout the coun- 
try. Their comings and goings, their doings, 
151 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

opinions, and tastes are set forth in the news- 
papers. Their houses, their establishments, in 
some cases are palatial; in other cases they are 
astonishingly plain and modest. But however 
that may be, the men themselves, as a class, 
are prominent, they are talked about, they hold 
the public attention. 

What is the nature of this attention? Is it 
the culminating rite in the worship of the Al- 
mighty Dollar? No; it is an attention of 
curiosity, of natural interest, of critical con- 
sideration. 

The dollar fer se is no more almighty in 
America than it is anywhere else. It has just 
the same kind of power that the franc has in 
France, that the pound has in England: the 
power to buy the things that are for sale. 
There are foolish people in every country who 
worship money for its own sake. There are 
ambitious people in every country who worship 
money because they have an exaggerated idea 
of what it can buy. But the characteristic 
thing in the attitude of the Americans toward 
money is this: not that they adore the dollar, 
but that they admire the energy, the will-power, 
by which the dollar has been won. 

They consider the multi-millionnaire much 
less as the possessor of an enormous fortune 
152 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

than as the successful leader of great enter- 
prises in the world of aflFairs, a master of the 
steel industry, the head of a great railway sys- 
tem, the developer of the production of mineral 
oil, the organiser of large concerns which pro- 
mote general prosperity. He represents to 
them achievement, force, courage, tireless will- 
power. 

A man who is very rich merely by inheritance, 
who has no manifest share in the activities of 
the country, has quite a dilBEerent place in their 
attention. They are entertained, or perhaps 
shocked, by his expenditures, but they regard 
him lightly. 

It is the man who does things, and does them 
largely, in whom they take a serious interest. 
They are inclined, perhaps, to pardon him for 
things that ought not to be pardoned, because 
they feel so strongly the fascination of his potent 
will, his practical efficiency. 

It is not the might of the dollar that impresses 
them, it is the might of the man who wins the 
dollar ‘‘magnificently” by the development of 
American industry. 

This, I assure you, is the characteristic atti- 
tude of the typical American toward wealth. 
It does not confer a social status by itself in 
the United States any more than it does in 
153 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


England or in France. But it commands public 
attention by its relation to national will-power. 

Of late there has come into this attention a 
new note of more searching inquiry, of sharper 
criticism, in regard to the use of great wealth. 

Is it employed for generous and noble ends, 
for the building and endowment of hospitals, of 
public museums, libraries, and art galleries, for 
the support of schools and universities, for the 
education of the retarded races ? Then the dis- 
tributer is honoured. 

Is it devoted even to some less popular pur- 
pose, like Egyptian excavations, or polar ex- 
peditions, or the endowment of some favourite 
study, — some object which the mass of the peo- 
ple do not quite understand, but which they 
vaguely recognise as having an ideal air ? Then 
the donor is respected even by the people who 
wonder why he does that particular thing. 

Is it merely hoarded, or used for selfish and 
extravagant luxury ? Then the possessor is re- 
garded with suspicion, with hostility, or with 
half-humorous contempt. 

There is, in fact, as much difference in the 
comparative standing of multi-millionnaires in 
America as there is in the comparative standing 
of lawyers or politicians. Even in the same 
family, when a great fortune is divided, the heir 
154 


WILL-POWER, WORK, AND WEALTH 

who makes a good and fine use of the inheritance 
receives the tribute of affection and praise, while 
the heir who hoards it, or squanders it ignobly, 
receives only the tribute of notoriety, — which is 
quite a different thing. The power of discrimi- 
nation has not been altogether blinded by the 
glitter of gold. The soul of the people in Amer- 
ica accepts the law of the moral dividend which 
says Richesse oblige. 

Here I might stop, were it not for the fact 
that still another factor is coming into the atti- 
tude of the American people toward great wealth, 
concentrated wealth. There is a growing ap- 
prehension that the will-power of one man may 
be so magnified and extended by the enormous 
accumulation of the results of his energy and 
skill as to interfere with the free exercise of the 
will-power of other men. There is a feeling 
that great ‘‘trusts” carry within themselves the 
temptation to industrial oppression, that the 
liberty of individual initiative may be threat- 
ened, that the private man may find himself in 
a kind of bondage to these immense and potent 
artificial personalities created by the law. 

Beyond a doubt this feeling is spreading. 
Beyond a doubt it will lead to some peaceful 
effort to regulate and control the great corpora- 
tions in their methods. And if that fails, what 
155 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


then ? Probably an eflPort to make the concen- 
tration of large wealth in a few hands more diffi- 
cult if not impossible. And if that fails, what 
then? Who knows? But I think it is not 
likely to be anything of the nature of com- 
munism. 

The ruling passion of America is not equality, 
but personal freedom for every man to exercise 
his will-power under the guidance of self-reliance 
and fair play. 


156 


V 


COMMON ORDER AND SOCIAL 
COOPERATION 

TT is a little strange, and yet it seems to be 
true, that for a long time America was better 
understood by the French than by the English. 
This may be partly due to the fact that the 
French are more idealistic and more excitable 
than the English; in both of which qualities the 
Americans resemble them. It may also be due 
in part to the fact that the American Revolution 
was in a certain sense a family quarrel. A pro- 
longed conflict of wills between the older and 
the younger members of the same household 
develops prejudices which do not easily sub- 
side. The very closeness of the family relation 
intensifies the misunderstanding. The seniors 
find it extremely diflScult to comprehend the 
motives of the juniors, or to believe that they 
are really grown up. They seem like naughty 
and self-confident children. A person outside 
of the family is much more likely to see matters 
in their true light. 

At all events, in the latter part of the eigh- 
teenth century, when Dr. Samuel Johnson was 
157 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


calling the Americans ‘‘a race of convicts, who 
ought to be thankful for anything we allow 
them short of hanging,’’ and declaring that he 
was willing to love all mankind except the Ameri- 
cans y whom he described as ‘‘Rascals — Robbers 
— Pirates,” a Frenchman, named Crevecoeur, 
who had lived some twenty years in New York, 
gave a different portrait of the same subject. 

“What then is the American,” he asks, “this 
new man ? He is either a European or the de- 
scendant of a European, hence that strange 
mixture of blood which you will find in no other 
country. I could point out to you a family 
whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose 
wife was Dutch, whose son married a French- 
woman, and whose present four sons have now 
wives of four different nations. . . . Here in- 
dividuals of all nations are melted into a new 
race of men whose labours and posterity will 
one day cause great changes in the world. 
Americans are the western pilgrims, who are 
carrying along with them that great mass of 
arts, sciences, vigour, and industry which began 
long since in the east. They will finish the great 
circle.” 

This is the language of compliment, of course. 
It is the saying of a very polite prophet; and 
even in prophecy one is inclined to like pleasant 
158 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


manners. Yet that is not the reason why it 
seems to Americans to come much nearer to the 
truth than Dr. Johnson’s remarks, or Charles 
Dickens’s American Notes, or Mrs. Trollope’s 
Domestic Manners of the Americans, It is be- 
cause the Frenchman has been clear-sighted 
enough to recognise that the Americans started 
out in life with an inheritance of civilized ideals, 
manners, aptitudes, and powers, and that these 
did not all come from one stock, but were as- 
sembled from several storehouses. This fact, 
as I have said before, is fundamental to a right 
understanding of American character and his- 
tory. But it is particularly important to the 
subject of this lecture: the sentiment of common 
order, and the building-up of a settled, decent, 
sane life in the community. 

Suppose, for example, that a family of bar- 
barians, either from some native impulse, or 
under the influence of foreign visitors, should 
begin to civilize themselves. Their course would 
be slow, irregular, and often eccentric. It would 
alternate between servile imitation and wild 
originality. Sometimes it would resemble the 
costume of that Australian chief who arrayed 
himself in a stove-pipe hat and patent-leather 
boots and was quite unconscious of the need of 
the intermediate garments. 

159 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


But suppose we take an example of another 
kind, — let us say such a family as that which 
was made famous fifty years ago by a well- 
known work of juvenile fiction. The Swiss Family 
Robinson. They are shipwrecked on a desert 
island. They carry ashore with them their 
tastes, their habits, their ideas of what is de- 
sirable and right and fitting for decent people 
in the common life. It is because their souls 
are not naked that they do not wish their bodies 
to become so. It is because there is already a 
certain order and proportion in their minds that 
they organise their tasks and their time. The 
problem before them is not to think out a civi- 
lized existence, but to realise one which already 
exists within them, and to do this with the 
materials which they find on their island, and 
with the tools and implements which they save 
from their wrecked ship. 

Here you have precisely the problem which 
confronted the Americans. They began house- 
keeping in a wild land, but not as wild people. 
An English lady once asked Eugene Field of 
Chicago whether he knew anything about his 
ancestors. ‘‘Not much, madam,” he replied, 
“but I believe that mine lived in trees when 
they were first caught.” This was an illustra- 
tion of conveying truth by its opposite. 

160 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 

The English Pilgrims who came from Nor- 
wich and Plymouth, the Hollanders who came 
from Amsterdam and Rotterdam, the Hugue- 
nots who came from La Rochelle and Rouen 
were distinctly not tree-dwellers nor troglo- 
dytes. They were people who had the habits 
and preferences of a well-ordered life in cities 
of habitation, where the current of existence 
was tranquil and regular except when disturbed 
by the storms of war or religious persecution. 
And those who came from the country districts, 
from the little villages of Normandy and Poitou 
and Languedoc, of Lincolnshire and Yorkshire 
and Cornwall, of Friesland and Utrecht, of the 
Rhenish Palatinate, and of the north of Ireland, 
were not soldiers of fortune and adventurers. 
They were for the most part peaceable farmers, 
whose ideal of earthly felicity was the well- 
filled bam and the comfortable fireside. 

There were people of a different sort, of 
course, among the settlers of America. Eng- 
land sent a good many of her bankrupts, incur- 
able idlers, masterless men, sons of Belial, across 
the ocean in the early days. Some writers say 
that she sent as many as 50,000 of them. Among 
the immigrants of other nations there were 
doubtless many ‘‘who left their country for 
their country’s good.” It is silly to indulge in 
161 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


illusions in regard to the angelic purity and 
unmixed virtue of the original American stock. 

But the elements of turbulence and disorder 
were always, and are still, in the minority. 
Whatever interruption they caused in the de- 
velopment of a civilized and decent life was 
local and transient. The steady sentiment of 
the people who were in control was in favour of 
common order and social cooperation. 

There is a significant passage in the diary of 
John Adams, written just after the outbreak of 
mob violence against the loyalists in 1775. A 
man had stopped him, as he was riding along 
the highway, to congratulate him on the fury 
which the patriots and their congress had stirred 
up, and the general dissolution of the bonds of 
order. 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Adams, what great things have 
you and your colleagues done for us. We can 
never be grateful enough to you. There are 
no courts of justice now in this province, and 
I hope there will never be another.” Upon 
which the indignant Adams comments: “Is this 
the object for which I have been contending, 
said I to myself, for I rode along without any 
answer to this wretch; are these the sentiments 
of such people, and how many of them are there 
in this country? Half the nation for what I 
162 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 

know: for half the nation are debtors, if not 
more; and these have been in all countries the 
sentiments of debtors. If the power of the 
country should get into such hands, and there 
is great danger that it will, to what purpose 
have we sacrificed our time, our health, and 
everything else ? ” 

But the fears of the sturdy old Puritan and 
patriot were not realised. It was not into the 
hands of such men as he despised and dreaded, 
nor even into the hands of such men as Mr. 
Rudyard Kipling’s imaginary American, 

^^Enslavedy illogical, elate . . . 

Unkempt, disreputable, vast,'^ 

that the power of the country fell. It was into 
the hands of men of a very different type, in- 
telligent as well as independent, sober as well 
as self-reliant, inheritors of principles well- 
matured and defined, friends of liberty in all 
their policies, but at the bottom of their hearts 
lovers and seekers of tranquil order. 

I hear the spirit of these men speaking in 
the words of him who was the chosen leader 
of the people in peace and in war. Washington 
retired from his unequalled public service with 
the sincere declaration that he wished for noth- 
ing better than to partake, ‘‘in the midst of 
163 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


my fellow-citizens, the benign influence of good 
laws under a free government, the ever favour- 
ite object of my heart, and the happy reward, 
as I trust, of our mutual cares, labours, and 
dangers.” 

In these nobly simple and eloquent words, 
the great American expresses clearly the fourth 
factor in the making of his country , — the love 
of common order. Here we see, in the mild light 
of unconscious self-revealment, one of the chief 
ends which the Spirit of America desires and 
seeks. Not merely a self-reliant life, not merely 
a life of equal opportunity for all, not merely 
an active, energetic life in which the free-will 
of the individual has full play, but also a life 
shared with one’s fellow-citizens under the be- 
nign influence of good laws, a life which is con- 
trolled by principles of harmony and fruitful 
in efforts cooperant to a common end, a life 
rangee, ordonnee, et solidairey — this is the Ameri- 
can ideal. 

With what diflSculty men worked out this 
ideal in outward things in the early days we 
can hardly imagine. Those little communities, 
scattered along the edge of the wilderness, had 
no easy task to establish and maintain physical 
orderliness. Nature has her own order, no 
doubt, but her ways are different from man’s 
164 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


ways; she is reluctant to submit to his control; 
she does not like to have her hair trimmed and 
her garments confined; she even communicates 
to man, in his first struggles with her, a little 
of her own carelessness, her own apparently 
reckless and wasteful way of doing things. 
“Rough and ready” is a necessary maxim of 
the frontier. It is hard to make a new country 
or a log cabin look neat. 

To this day in America, even in the regions 
which have been long settled, one finds nothing 
like the excellent trimness, the precise and 
methodical arrangement, of the little farmsteads 
of the Savoy among which these lectures were 
written. My memory often went back, last 
summer, from those tiny unfenced crops laid 
out like the squares of a chess-board in the 
valleys, from those rich pastures hanging like 
green velvet on the steep hillsides, from those 
carefully tended forests of black firs, from those 
granges with the little sticks of wood so neatly 
piled along their sides under the shelter of the 
overhanging eaves, to the straggling fences, the 
fallow fields, the unkempt meadows, the de- 
nuded slopes, the shaggy underbrush, the tum- 
bled woodpiles, and the general signs of waste 
and disorder which may be seen in so many 
farming districts of the United States. I asked 
165 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


myself how I could venture to assure a French 
audience, in spite of such apparent evidences to 
the contrary, that the love of order was a strong 
factor in the American spirit. 

But then I began to remember that those 
farms of New England and New York and New 
Jersey were won only a few generations ago 
from a trackless and savage wilderness; that 
the breadth of their acres had naturally tempted 
the farmer to neglect the less fruitful for the 
more productive; that Nature herself had put 
a larger premium upon energy than upon parsi- 
mony in these first efforts to utilise her resources; 
and that, after all, what I wished to describe 
and prove was not an outward triiunph of uni- 
versal orderliness in material things, but an in- 
ward desire of order, the wish to have a common 
life well arranged and regulated, tranquil and 
steady. 

Here I began to see my way more clear. 
Those farms of eastern America, which would 
look to a foreigner so rude and ill-kept, have 
nourished a race of men and women in whom 
regularity and moral steadiness and considera- 
tion of the common welfare have been char- 
acteristic traits. Their villages and towns, with 
few exceptions, are well cared for physically; 
and socially, to use a phrase which I heard from 
166 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


one of my guides in Maine, they are ‘‘as calm 
as a clock.’’ They have their Village Improve- 
ment Societies, their Lyceum Lecture Courses, 
their Public Libraries, their churches (often 
more than they need), and their schoolhouses, 
usually the finest of all their buildings. They 
have poured into the great cities, year after 
year, an infusion of strong and pure American 
blood which has been of the highest value, not 
only in filling the arteries of industry and trade 
and the professions with a fresh current of vigor- 
ous life, but also in promoting the rapid as- 
similation of the mass of foreign immigrants. 
They have sent out a steady flood of westward- 
moving population which has carried with it 
the ideals and institutions, the customs and the 
habits, of common order and social coopera- 
tion. 

On the crest of the advancing wave, to be 
sure, there is a picturesque touch of foam and 
fury. The first comers, the prospectors, miners, 
ranchers, land-grabbers, lumbermen, adven- 
turers, are often rough and turbulent, careless 
of the amenities, and much given to the pro- 
fanities. But they are the men who break the 
way and open the path. Behind them come 
the settlers bringing the steady life. 

I could wish the intelligent foreigner to see 
167 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the immense com-fields of Indiana, Illinois, and 
Kansas, the vast wheat-fields of the Northwest, 
miles and miles of green and golden harvest, 
cultivated, reaped, and garnered with a skill 
and accuracy which resemble the movements 
of a mighty army. I could wish him to see the 
gardens and orchards of the Pacific slope, miles 
and miles of opulent bloom and fruitage, wa- 
tered by a million streams, more fertile than the 
paradise of Damascus. I could wish him to see 
the towns and little cities which have grown up 
as if by magic everywhere, each one developing 
an industry, a social life, a civic consciousness 
of its own, in forms which, though often bare 
and simple, are almost always regular and re- 
spectable even to the point of monotony. Then 
perhaps he would believe that the race which 
has done these things in a hundred years has 
a real and deep instinct of common order. 

But the peculiarly American quality in this 
instinct is its individualism. It does not wish 
to he organised. It wishes to organise itself. 
It craves form, but it dislikes formality. It 
prizes and cherishes the sense of voluntary 
effort more than the sense of obedience. It 
has its eye fixed on the end which it desires, a 
peaceable and steady life, a tranquil and pros- 
perous community. It sometimes overlooks the 
168 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


means which are indirectly and obscurely ser- 
viceable to that end. It is inclined to be sus- 
picious of any routine or convention whose 
direct practical benefit is not self-evident. It 
has a slight contempt for etiquette and manners 
as superficial things. Its ideal is not elegance, 
but utility; not a dress-parade, but a march 
in comradeship toward a common goal. It is 
reluctant to admit the value of the parade even 
as a discipline and preparation for the march. 
Often it demands so much liberty for the in- 
dividual that the smooth interaction of the 
different parts of the community is disturbed 
or broken. 

The fabric of common order in America is 
sound and strong at the centre. The pattern is 
well-marked, and the threads are firmly woven. 
But the edges are ragged and unfinished. Many 
of our best cities have a fringe of ugliness and 
filth around them which is like a torn and be- 
draggled petticoat on a woman otherwise well 
dressed. 

Approaching New York, or Cincinnati, or 
Pittsburgh, or Chicago, you pass first through 
a delightful region, where the homes of the 
prosperous are spread upon the hills, reminding 
you of a circle of Paradise; and then through a 
region of hideous disorder and new ruins, which 
169 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

has the aspect of a circle of Purgatory, and 
makes you doubt whether it is safe to go any 
farther for fear you may come to a worse place. 
This neglected belt of hideous suburbs around 
some of the richest cities in the world is typical 
and symbolical. It speaks of the haste with 
which things have been done; of the tendency 
to overlook detail, provided the main purpose 
is accomplished; of the lack of thoroughness, 
and the indifference to appearance, which are 
common American faults. It suggests, also, the 
resistance which a strong spirit of individualism 
offers to civic supervision and control; the 
tenacity with which men cling to their supposed 
right to keep their houses in dirt and disorder; 
the difficulty of making them comply with gen- 
eral laws of sanitation and public improvement; 
and the selfishness with which land-owners will 
leave their neglected property to disfigure the 
city from whose growth they expect in ten or 
twenty years to reap a large profit. 

Yet, as a matter of fact, this very typical 
mark of an imperfect sense of the value of phys- 
ical neatness and orderliness in American life is 
not growing, but diminishing. The fringes of 
the cities are not nearly as bad as they were 
thirty or forty years ago. In many of them, — 
notably in Philadelphia and Boston and some 
170 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


of the western cities, — beauty has taken the 
place of ugliness. Parks and playgrounds have 
been created where formerly there were only 
waste places filled with rubbish. Tumble-down 
shanties give way to long rows of trim little 
houses. Even the factories cease to look like 
dingy prisons and put on an air of self-respect. 
Nuisances are abolished. The country can 
draw near to the city without holding its 
nose. 

This gradual improvement, also, is sym- 
bohcal. It speaks of individualism becoming 
conscious of its own defects and dangers. It 
speaks of an effort on the part of the more in- 
telligent and public-spirited citizens to better 
the conditions of life for all. It speaks of a 
deep instinct in the people which responds to 
these efforts and supports them with the neces- 
sary laws and enactments. It speaks most of 
all, I hope, of that underlying sense of common 
order which is one of the qualities of the Spirit 
of America. 

Let me illustrate this, first, by some observa- 
tions on the average American crowd. 

The obvious thing about it which the for- 
eigner is likely to notice is its good humour. 
It is largely made up of native optimists, who 
think the world is not a bad place to live in, 
171 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and who have a cheerful expectation that they 
are going to get along in it. Although it is com- 
posed of rather excitable individuals, as a mass 
it is not easily thrown into passion or confusion. 
The emotion to which it responds most quickly 
is neither anger nor fear, but laughter. 

But it has another trait still more striking, 
and that is its capacity for self-organisation. 
Watch it in front of a ticket-oflSce, and see how 
quickly and instinctively it forms “the line.” 
No police are needed. The crowd takes care 
of itself. Every man finds his place, and the 
order once established is strictly maintained 
by the whole crowd. The man who tries to 
break it is laughed at and hustled out. 

When an accident happens in the street, the 
throng gathers in a moment. But it is not 
merely curious. It is promptly helpful. There 
is some one to sit on the head of the fallen horse, 
— a dozen hands to unbuckle the harness; if 
a litter is needed for the wounded man, it is 
quickly improvised, and he is carried into the 
nearest shop, while some one sends a “hurry 
call” for the doctor and the ambulance. 

Until about forty years ago, the whole work 
of fighting fire in the cities was left to volun- 
tary efifort. Companies of citizens were formed, 
like social or political clubs, which purchased 
172 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


fire-engines, and organised themselves into a 
brigade ready to come at the first alarm of a 
conflagration. The crowd came with them and 
helped. I have seen a church on Sunday morn- 
ing emptied of all its able-bodied young men 
by the ringing of the fire-bell. It is true that 
there was a keen rivalry among these voluntary 
fire-fighters which sometimes led them to fight 
one another on their way to a conflagration. 
But out of these free associations have grown 
the paid fire-departments of the large cities, 
with their fine tradition of courage and increased 
efficiency. 

If you wish to see an American crowd in its 
most extraordinary aspect, you should go to a 
political convention for the nomination of a 
President. The streets swarming with people, 
all hurrying in one direction, talking loudly, 
laughing, cheering; the vast, barn-like hall 
draped with red, white, and blue bunting, and 
packed with 12,000 of the 200,000 folks who 
have tried to get into it; the thousand delegates 
sitting together in solid cohorts according to 
the States which they represent, each cohort 
ready to shout and cheer and vote as one man 
for its “favourite son”; the officers on the far- 
away platform, Lilliputian figures facing, di- 
recting, dominating this Brobdignagian mass of 
173 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


humanity; the buzzing of the audience in the 
intervals of business; the alternate waves of 
excitement and uneasiness that sweep over it; 
the long speeches, the dull speeches, the fiery 
speeches, the outbreaks of laughter and ap- 
plause, the coming and going of messengers, 
the waving of fiags and banners,— what does 
it all mean? What reason or order is there in 
it? What motives guide and control this big, 
good-natured crowd? 

Wait. You are at the Republican Convention 
in Chicago. The leadership of Mr. Roosevelt in 
the party is really the point in dispute, though 
not a word has been said about it. A lean, 
clean-cut, incisive man is speaking, the Chair- 
man of the convention. Presently he shoots 
out a sentence referring to ‘‘the best abused 
and the most popular man in America.” As if 
it were a signal given by a gun, that phrase lets 
loose a storm, a tempest of applause for Roose- 
velt, — cheers, yells, bursts of song, the blowing 
of brass-bands, the roaring of megaphones, the 
waving of flags; more cheers like volleys of 
musketry; a hurricane of vocal enthusiasm, 
dying down for a moment to break out in a new 
place, redoubling itself in vigour as if it had 
just begun, shaking the rafters and making 
the bunting flutter in the wind. For forty- 
174 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


seven minutes by the clock that American crowd 
pours out its concerted enthusiasm, and makes 
a new “record” for the length of a political 
demonstration. 

Now change the scene to Denver, a couple 
of weeks later. The Democrats are holding 
their convention. You are in the same kind of 
a hall, only a little larger, filled with the same 
kind of a crowd, only more of it. The leader- 
ship of Mr. Bryan is the point in dispute, and 
everybody knows it. Presently a speaker on 
the platform mentions “the peerless son of 
Nebraska” and pauses as if he expected a reply. 
It comes like an earthquake. The crowd breaks 
into a long, indescribable, incredible tumult of 
applause, just like the other one, but lasting 
now for more than eighty minutes, — a new 
“record” of demonstration. 

What are these scenes at which you have 
assisted? The meetings of two entirely volun- 
tary associations of American citizens, who have 
agreed to work together for political purposes. 
And what are these masses of people who are 
capable of cheering In unison for three-quarters 
of an hour, or an hour and a quarter? Just 
two American crowds showing their enthu- 
siasm for their favourites. 

What does it all prove? 

175 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Nothing, — I think, — except an extraordinary 
capacity for self-organisation. 

But the Spirit of America shows the sense of 
common order in much deeper and more signif- 
icant things than the physical smoothing and 
polishing of town and country, or than the be- 
haviour of an average crowd. It is of these 
more important things that I wish to give some 
idea. 

It has been said that the first instinct of the 
Americans, confronted by a serious diflSculty 
or problem, is to appoint a committee and form 
a society. Whether this be true or not, I am 
sure that many, if not most, of the advances in 
moral and social order in the United States 
during the last thirty or forty years have been 
begun and promoted in this way. It. is, in fact, 
the natural way in a conservative republic. 

Where public opinion rules, expressing itself 
more or less correctly in popular suffrage, no 
real reform can be accomplished without first 
winning the opinion of the public in its favour. 
Those who believe in the reform must get to- 
gether in order to do this. They must gather 
their evidence, present their arguments, show 
why and how certain things ought to be done, 
and urge the point until the public sees it. 

176 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


Then, in some cases, legislation follows. The 
moral sense, or it may be merely the practical 
common sense, le gros bon sens de menage^ 
of the community, takes shape in some formal 
statute or enactment. A State or municipal 
board or commission is appointed, and the re- 
form passes from the voluntary to the organic 
stage. The association or committee which 
promoted it disappears in a blaze of congratula- 
tion, or perhaps continues its existence to watch 
the enforcement of the new laws. 

But there is another class of cases in which 
no formal legislation seems to be adequate to 
meet the evils, or in which the process of law- 
making is impeded or perhaps altogether pre- 
vented by the American system of dividing the 
power between the national. State, and local 
governments. Here the private association of 
public-spirited citizens must act as a compensat- 
ing force in the body politic. It must take what 
it can get in the way of partial organic reform, 
and supply what is lacking by voluntary co- 
operation. 

There is still a third class of evils which seem 
to have their roots not in the structure of so- 
ciety, but in human nature itself, and for these 
the typical American believes that the only 
amelioration is a steady and friendly effort by 
177 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


men of good-will. He does not look for the 
establishment of the millennium by statute. 
He does not think that the impersonal State 
can strengthen character, bind up broken hearts, 
or be a nursing mother to the ignorant, the 
wounded, and the helpless. For this work there 
must always be a personal service, a volunteer 
service, a service to which men and women are 
bound, not by authority, but by the inward 
ties of philanthropy and religion. 

Now these three kinds of voluntary coopera- 
tion for the bettering of the common order are 
not peculiar to America. One finds them in 
every nation that has the seed of progress in 
its mind or the vision of the City of God in its 
soul, — and nowhere more than in France. The 
French have a genius for society and a passion 
for societies. But I am not sure that they un- 
derstand how much the Americans resemble 
them in the latter respect, and how much has 
been accomplished in the United States by 
way of voluntary social cooperation under an 
individualistic system. 

Take the subject of hospitals. I was read- 
ing the other day a statement by M. Jules 
Huret: — 

“At Pittsburgh, the industrial hell, which 
contains 60,000 Italians, and 300,000 Slavs, 
178 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


Croats, Hungarians, etc., in the city and its 
suburbs, — at Pittsburgh, capital of the Steel 
Trust, which distributes 700 millions of interest 
and dividends every year, — there is no free 
hospital 

This is wonderfully incorrect. There are 
thirty-three hospitals at Pittsburgh, fifteen pub- 
lic and eighteen private. In 1908, thirteen of 
these hospitals treated over ten thousand free 
patients, at a cost of more than three hundred 
thousand dollars. 

In New York there are more than forty hos- 
pitals, of which six are municipal institutions, 
while the others are incorporated by associations 
of citizens and supported largely by benevolent 
gifts; and more than forty free dispensaries 
for the treatment of patients and the distribu- 
tion of medicines. In fact, the dispensaries 
increased so rapidly, a few years ago, that the 
regular physicians complained that their busi- 
ness was unfairly reduced. They said that 
prosperous people went to the dispensary to 
save expense; and they humbly suggested that 
no patient who wore diamonds should be re- 
ceived for free treatment. 

In the United States in 1903 there were 1500 
hospitals costing about $29,000,000 a year for 
maintenance: $9,000,000 of this came from 
179 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


public funds, and the remaining $20,000,000 
from charitable gifts and from paying patients. 
One-third of the patients were in public in- 
stitutions, the other two-thirds in hospitals 
under private or religious control. There is not 
a city of any consequence in America which is 
without good hospital accommodations; and 
there are few countries in the world where it 
is more comfortable for a stranger to break a 
leg or have a mild attack of appendicitis. All 
this goes to show that the Americans recognise 
the care of the sick and wounded as a part of 
the common order. They perceive that the 
State never has been, and probably never will 
be, able to do all that is needed without the 
help of benevolent individuals, religious bodies, 
and philanthropic societies. 

How generously this help is given in America, 
not only for hospitals, but for all other objects 
of benevolence, may be seen from the fact that 
the public gifts and bequests of private citizens 
for the year 1907 amounted to more than $100,- 
000,000. 

Let me give another illustration of voluntary 
social cooperation in this sphere of action which 
lies at least in part beyond the reach of the 
State. In all the American cities of large size, 
you will find institutions which are called 
180 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


‘‘Settlements/’ — a vague word which has been 
defined to mean “homes in the poorer quarters 
of a city where educated men and women may 
live in daily contact with the working people.” 
The first house of this kind to be established 
was Toynbee Hall in London, in 1885. Two 
years later the Neighbourhood Guild was 
founded in New York, and in 1889 the College 
Settlement in the same city, and Hull House 
in Chicago, were established. There are now 
reported some three hundred of such settle- 
ment houses in the world, of which England 
has 56, Holland 11, Scotland 10, France 4, Ger- 
many 2, and the United States 207. I will take, 
as examples, Hull House in Chicago, and the 
Henry Street Settlement in New York. 

Hull House was started by two ladies who 
went into one of the worst districts of Chicago 
and took a house with the idea of making it a 
radiating centre of orderly and happy life. 
Their friends backed them up with money and 
help. After five years the enterprise was in- 
corporated. The buildings, which are of the 
most substantial kind, now cover a whole city 
block, some forty or fifty thousand square feet, 
and include an apartment house, a boys’ club, 
a girls’ club, a theatre, a gymnasium, a day 
nursery, workshops, classrooms, a coffee-house, 
181 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and so on. There are forty-four educated men 
and women in residence who are engaged in 
self-supporting occupations, and who give their 
free time to the work of the settlement. A hun- 
dred and fifty outside helpers come every week 
to serve as teachers, friendly visitors, or directors 
of clubs: 9000 people a week come to the house 
as members of some one of its organisations or 
as parts of an audience. There are free con- 
certs, and lectures, and classes of various kinds 
in study and in handicraft. Investigations of 
the social and industrial conditions of the neigh- 
bourhood are carried on, not officially, but in- 
formally; and the knowledge thus obtained has 
been used not only for the visible transformation 
of the region around Hull House, but also to 
throw light upon the larger needs and possibili- 
ties of improvement in Chicago and other Ameri- 
can cities. Hull House, in fact, is an example 
of ethical and humane housekeeping on a big 
scale in a big town. 

The Henry Street Settlement in New York is 
quite different in its specific quality. It was 
begun in 1893 by two trained nurses, who went 
down into the tenement-house district, to find 
the sick and to nurse them in their homes. At 
first they lived in a tenement house themselves; 
then the growth of their work and the coming 
182 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


of other helpers forced them to get a little house, 
then another, and another, a cottage in the 
country, a convalescent home. The idea of the 
settlement was single and simple. It was to 
meet the need of intelligent and skilful nursing 
in the very places where dirt and ignorance, 
carelessness and superstition, were doing the 
most harm, — 

‘‘in the crowded warrens of the poor,^^ 

This little company of women, some twenty or 
thirty of them, go about from tenement to tene- 
ment, bringing cleanliness and order with them. 
In the presence of disease and pain they teach 
lessons which could be taught in no other way. 
They nurse five or six thousand patients every 
year, and make forty or fifty thousand visits. 
In addition to this, largely through their influ- 
ence and example, the Board of Education has 
adopted a trained nursing service in the public 
schools, and has appointed a special corps of 
nurses to take prompt charge of cases of con- 
tagious disease among the school children. The 
Nurses’ Settlement, in fact, is a repetition of the 
parable of the Good Samaritan in a crowded 
city instead of on a lonely road. 

These two examples illustrate the kind of 
work that is going on all over the United States. 

183 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Every religious body, Jewish or Christian, has 
some part in it. It touches many sides of life, 
— this effort to do for the common order what 
the State has never been able to accomplish 
fully, — to sweeten and humanise it. I wish that 
there were time to speak of some particularly 
interesting features, like the Children’s Aid So- 
ciety, the George Junior Republic, the Associa- 
tion for Improving the Condition of the Poor, 
the Kindergarten Association. But now I must 
pass at once to the second kind of social effort, 
that in which the voluntary cooperation of the 
citizen enlightens and guides and supplements 
the action of the State. 

Here I might speak of the great question of 
the housing of the poor, and of the relation of 
private building and loan associations to gov- 
ernmental regulation of tenements and dwelling- 
houses. This is one of the points on which 
America has lagged behind the rest of the civi- 
lized world. Our excessive spirit of laissez-faire y 
and our cheerful optimism, — which in this case 
justifies the cynical definition of optimism as 
‘‘an indifference to the sufferings of others,” — 
permitted the development in New York of the 
most congested and rottenly overcrowded ten 
acres on the face of the habitable globe. But 
the Tenement House Commission of 1894, and 
184 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


the other commissions which followed it, did 
much to improve conditions. A fairly good 
Tenement House Act was passed. A special 
Department of the municipality was created to 
enforce it. The dark interior rooms, the vile 
and unsanitary holes, the lodgings without water 
or air or fire-escapes, are being slowly but surely 
broken up and extirpated, and a half-dozen 
private societies, combining philanthropy with 
business, are building decent houses for working 
people, which return from 3 per cent to 5 per 
cent on the capital invested. 

For our present purpose, however, it will be 
better to take an example which is less compli- 
cated, and in which the cooperation of the State 
and the good-will of the private citizen can be 
more closely and simply traced. I mean the 
restriction and the regulation of child labour. 

Every intelligent nation sees in its children 
its most valuable asset. That their physical 
and moral development should be dwarfed or 
paralysed by bondage to exhausting and un- 
wholesome labour, or by a premature absorp- 
tion in toil of any kind, would be at once a na- 
tional disgrace and a national calamity. 

Three kinds of societies have been and still 
are at work in America to prevent this shame 
and disaster. First, there are the societies 
185 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


which are devoted to the general protection of 
all the interests of the young, like the Society 
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. 

Then there are the societies which make their 
appeal to the moral sense of the community to 
condemn and suppress all kinds of inhumanity 
in the conduct of industry and trade. Of these 
the Consumers’ League is an example. Founded 
in New York in 1890, by a few ladies of public 
spirit, it has spread to twenty other States, with 
sixty-four distinct societies and a national or- 
ganisation for the whole country. Its central 
idea is to persuade people, rich and poor, to 
buy only those things which are made and sold 
under fair and humane conditions. The re- 
sponsibility of men and women for the way in 
which they spend their money is recognised. 
They are asked to remember that the cheapness 
of a bargain is not the only thing for them to 
consider. They ought to think whether it has 
been made cheap at the cost of human sorrow 
and degradation, whether the distress and pain 
and exhaustion of overtasked childhood and ill- 
treated womanhood have made their cheap 
bargain a shameful and poisonous thing. The 
first work of the leagues was to investigate the 
actual condition of labour in the great stores. 
The law forbade them to publish a black list of 
186 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


the establishments where the employees were 
badly treated. That would have been in the 
nature of a boycott. But they ingeniously 
evaded this obstacle by publishing a white list 
of those which treated their people decently and 
kindly. Thus the standard of a ^^Fair House'* 
where a living wage was paid, where children 
of tender years were not employed, where the 
hours of work were not excessive, and where the 
sanitary conditions were good, was established, 
and that standard has steadily been raised. 

Then the leagues went on to investigate the 
conditions of production of the goods sold in 
the shops. The National League issues a white 
label which guarantees that every article upon 
which it is found has been manufactured in a 
place where, (1) the State factory law is obeyed, 
(2) no children under sixteen years of age are 
employed, (3) no night work is required and the 
working-day does not exceed ten hours, (4) no 
goods are given out to be made away from the 
factory. At the same time the Consumers’ 
League has been steadily pressing the legisla- 
tures and governors of the different States for 
stricter and better laws in regard to the em- 
ployment of women and children. 

The third class of societies which are at work 
in this field are those which deal directly with 
187 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the question of child labour. It must be re- 
membered that under the American system this 
is a matter which is left to the control of the 
separate States. Naturally there has been the 
greatest imaginable diversity among them. For 
a long time there were many that had practically 
no laws upon the subject, or laws so defective 
that they were useless. Even now the States 
are far from anything like harmony or equality 
in their child-labour laws. Illinois, Massachu- 
setts, New York, New Jersey, Ohio, and Wis- 
consin are probably in the lead in good legisla- 
tion. If we may judge by the statistics of chil- 
dren between ten and fourteen years who are 
unable to read or write, Tennessee, Mississippi, 
the Carolinas, Louisiana, Georgia, and Alabama 
are in the rear (1908). 

It must be remembered, also, that the number 
of children between ten and fifteen years em- 
ployed in manufacturing pursuits in the United 
States increased from 1890 to 1900 more than 
twice as fast as the population of the country, 
and that the Census of 1900 gives the total of 
bread-winners under fifteen years of age as 
1,750,000. A graphic picture of the actual con- 
dition of child labour in the United States may 
be found in The Cry of the Children^ by Mrs. 
John Van Vorst (New York, 1908). 

Here is a little army — no, a vast army — of 
188 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


little soldiers, whose sad and silent files are full 
of menace for the republic. 

The principal forces arrayed against this peri- 
lous condition of things have been the special 
committees of the Women’s Clubs everywhere, 
the Child-Labour Committees in different States, 
and finally the National Child-Labour Com- 
mittee organised in 1904. Through their efforts^ 
there has been a great advance in legislation on 
the subject. In 1905, twenty-two States enacted 
laws regulating the employment of children. In 
1906 there were six States which legislated, in- 
cluding Georgia and Iowa, which for the first 
time put a law against child labour on their 
statute-books. In 1907 eight States amended 
their laws. In the same year a national investi- 
gation of the subject was ordered by Congress 
under direction of the Federal Commissioner of 
Labour. 

A bill was prepared which attempted to deal 
with the subject indirectly through that pro- 
vision of the Constitution which gives Con- 
gress the power to ‘‘regulate commerce.” This 
bill proposed to make it unlawful to transport 
from one State to another the product of any 
factory or mine in which children under four- 
teen years of age were employed. It was a 
humane and ingenious device. But it is doubt- 
ful whether it can be made an effective law. 

189 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


The best judges think that it stretches the idea 
of the regulation of interstate commerce beyond 
reasonable limits, and that the national govern- 
ment has no power to control industrial produc- 
tion in the separate States without an amend- 
ment to the Constitution. If this be true (and 
I am inclined to believe it is), then the best 
safeguard of America against the evils of child 
labour must be persistent action of these private 
associations in each community, investigating 
and reporting the actual conditions, awakening 
and stimulating the local conscience, pushing 
steadily for better State laws, and, when they 
are enacted, still working to create a public 
sentiment which will enforce them. 

It is one thing to love your own children and 
care for them. It is another thing to have a 
wise, tender, protecting regard for all the chil- 
dren of your country. We wish and hope to 
see better and more uniform laws against child 
labour in America. But, after all, nothing can 
take the place of the sentiment of fatherhood 
and motherhood in patriotism. And that comes 
and stays only through the voluntary eflFort of 
men and women of good-will. 

The last sphere in which the sense of common 
order in America has been expressed and pro- 
190 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 

moted by social cooperation is that of direct and 
definite reform accomplished by legislation, as 
a result, at least in part, of the work of some 
society or committee, formed for that specific 
purpose. Here a small, but neat, illustration is 
at hand. 

For many years America practised, and in- 
deed legally sanctioned, the habit of literary 
piracy. Foreign authors were distinctly re- 
fused any protection in the United States for 
the fruit of their intellectual labours. A for- 
eigner might make a hat, and no one could 
steal it. He might cultivate a crop of potatoes, 
and no one could take them from him without 
paying for them. But let him write a book, 
and any one could reprint it, and sell it, and 
make a fortune out of it, without being com- 
pelled to give the unhappy author a penny. 
American authors felt the shame of this state of 
things, — and the disorder, too, for it demoral- 
ised the book-trade and brought a mass of 
stolen goods into cheap competition with those 
which had paid an honest royalty to their 
makers. A Copyright League was formed which 
included all the well-known writers of America. 
After years of hard work this league secured the 
passage of an international copyright law which 
gave the same protection to the foreigner as to 
191 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the American author, providing only, under the 
protective tariff system, that his book must 
be printed and manufactured in the United 
States. 

But the most striking and important example 
of this kind of work is that of the Civil Service 
Reform Association, which was organised in 
1877. Here a few words of explanation are 
necessary. 

In the early history of the United States the 
number of civil offices, under the national gov- 
ernment was comparatively small, and the ap- 
pointments were generally made for ability and 
fitness. But as the country grew, the number of 
oflSces increased with tremendous rapidity. By 
1830 the so-called ‘‘Spoils System,” which re- 
garded them as prizes of partisan war, to be dis- 
tributed by the successful party in each election 
for the reward and encouragement of its adher- 
ents, became a fixed idea in the public mind. 
The post-oflBces, the custom-houses, all depart- 
ments of the civil service, were treated as rich 
treasuries of patronage, and used first by the 
Democrats and then by the Republicans, to 
consolidate and perpetuate partizan power. 

It was not a question of financial corruption, 
of bribery with money. It was worse. It 
was a question of the disorder and impurity 
192 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


of the national housekeeping, of the debauch- 
ment and degradation of the daily business of 
the State. 

Notoriously unfit persons were appointed to 
responsible positions. The tenure of office was 
brief and insecure. Every presidential election 
threatened to make a clean sweep of the hun- 
dreds of thousands of people who were doing the 
necessary routine work of the nation. Federal 
office-holders were practically compelled to con- 
tribute to campaign expenses, and to work and 
fight, like a host of mercenaries, for the success 
of the party which kept them in place. Con- 
fusion and inefficiency prevailed everywhere. 

In 1871 the condition of affairs had become 
intolerable. President Grant, in his first term, 
recommended legislation, and appointed a na- 
tional civil service commission. Competitive ex- 
aminations were begun, and a small appropria- 
tion was made to carry on the work. But the 
country was not yet educated up to the reform. 
Congress was secretly and stubbornly opposed 
to it. The appropriation was withdrawn. The 
work of the commission was ridiculed, and in 
his second term, in 1875, Grant was obliged to 
give it up. 

Then the Civil Service Reform Association, 
with men like George William Curtis, Carl 
193 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Schurz, Dorman B. Eaton, and James Russell 
Lowell as its leaders, was organised. A vigor- 
ous and systematic campaign of public agita- 
tion and education was begun. Candidates for 
the Presidency and other elective oflSces were 
called to declare their policy on this question. 

The war of opinion was fierce. It was as- 
serted that the assassination of President Gar- 
field, in 1881, was in some measure due to the 
feeling of hostility aroused by his known oppo- 
sition to the Spoils System. His successor, Vice- 
President Arthur, who was supposed to be a 
spoilsman, surprised everybody by his loyalty 
to Garfield’s policy on this point. And in 1883 
a bill for the reform of the Civil Service was 
passed and a new commission appointed. The 
next President was Grover Cleveland, an ardent 
and fearless friend of the reform, who greatly 
increased its practical efficiency. He fought 
against Congress, both in his first and in his 
second term, to enlarge the scope and operation 
of the act by bringing more offices into the 
classified and competitive service. In his second 
term, by executive order, he increased the num- 
ber of classified positions from forty-three thou- 
sand to eighty-seven thousand. 

Presidents Harrison and McKinley worked in 
the same direction. And President Roosevelt, 
194 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 

whose first national office was that of Civil Ser- 
vice Commissioner from 1889 to 1895, has 
broadened and strengthened the rules, and ap- 
plied the merit system to the consular service 
and other important departments of govern- 
mental work. 

The result is that out of three hundred and 
twenty-five thousand positions in the executive 
civil service one hundred and eighty-five thou- 
sand are now (1908) classified, and appointments 
are made either by competitive examination or 
on the merit system for proved efficiency. This 
is an immense forward step in the promotion of 
common order, and it is largely the result of the 
work of the Civil Service Reform Association, 
acting upon the formation of public opinion. I 
believe it would be impossible for any candidate 
known to favour the Spoils System to be elected 
to the Presidency of the United States to-day. 

A moment of thought will show the bearing 
of this illustration upon the subject which we 
are now considering. Here was a big, new, 
democratic people, self-reliant and sovereign, 
prosperous to a point where self-complacency 
was almost inevitable, and grown quite beyond 
the reach of external correction and control. 
It had fallen into wretched habits of national 
housekeeping. Its domestic service was dis- 
195 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


orderly and Incompetent. The party politicians, 
on both sides, were interested in maintaining 
this bad service, because they made a profit 
out of it. The people had been hardened to it; 
they seemed to be either careless and indifferent, 
in their large, happy-go-lucky way, or else posi- 
tively attached to a system which stirred every- 
thing up every four years and created unlim- 
ited opportunities for office-seeking and salary- 
drawing. What power could save them from 
their own bad judgment ? 

There was no higher authority to set them 
right. Everything was in their own hands. 
The case looked hopeless. But in less than 
thirty years the voluntary effort of a group of 
clear-sighted and high-minded citizens changed 
everything. An appeal to the sense of common 
order, of decency, of propriety in the soul of the 
people created a sentiment which was too strong 
for the selfish politicians of either party to re- 
sist. The popular will was enlightened, con- 
verted, transformed, and an orderly, just, busi- 
ness-like administration of the Civil Service 
became. If not an accomplished fact, at least 
a universal and acknowledged aim of national 
desire and effort. 

It is to precisely the same source that we 
must look with hope for the further development 
196 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


of harmony, and social equilibrium, and eflScient 
civic righteousness, in American aflFairs. It is 
by precisely the same process that America 
must save herself from the perils and perplexi- 
ties which are inherent in her own character and 
in the form of government which she has evolved 
to fit it. 

That boastful self-complacency which is the 
caricature of self-reliance, that contempt for the 
minority which is the mockery of fair play, that 
stubborn personal lawlessness which is the bane 
of the strong will and the energetic tempera- 
ment, can be restrained, modified, corrected, 
and practically conquered, only by another in- 
ward force, — the desire of common order, the 
instinct of social cooperation. And the best 
way of stimulating this desire, of cultivating this 
instinct, at least for the American republic, is 
the way of voluntary effort and association 
among the men and women of good-will. 

One looks with amazement upon the vast 
array of ‘‘societies” of all kinds which have 
sprung into being in the United States during 
the last thirty years. They cover every field 
of social thought and endeavour. Their docu- 
ments and pamphlets and circulars fill the 
mails. Their appeals for contributions and dues 
197 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


tax the purse. To read all that they print 
would be a weariness to the flesh. To attend 
all their meetings and conferences would wreck 
the most robust listener. To speak at all of 
them would ruin the most fluent orator. A feel- 
ing of humorous discouragement and dismay 
often comes over the quiet man who contem- 
plates this astonishing phase of American ac- 
tivity. 

But if he happens also to be a conscientious 
man, he is bound to remember, on the other side, 
that the majority of these societies exist for some 
practical end which belongs to the common or- 
der. The Women’s Clubs, all over the country, 
have been powerful promoters of local decency 
and good legislation. The Leagues for Social 
Service, for Political Education, for Municipal 
Reform, have investigated conditions, collected 
facts, and acted as ‘‘clearing-houses for human 
betterment.” The White Ribbon, and Red 
Ribbon, and Blue Ribbon Clubs have worked 
for purity and temperance. The Prison Asso- 
ciations have sought to secure the treatment of 
criminals as human beings. The City Clubs, 
and Municipal Leagues, and Vigilance Societies 
have acted as unpaid watchmen over the vital 
interests of the great cities. The Medical and 
Legal Societies have used their influence in be- 
198 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


half of sanitary reform and the improvement of 
the machinery and methods of the courts. 

There is no subject affecting the common wel- 
fare on which Congress would venture to legis- 
late to-day until the committee to which the 
bill had been referred had first given a public 
hearing. At these hearings, which are open to 
all, the societies that are interested present their 
facts and arguments, and plead their cause. 

Even associations of a less serious character 
seem to recognise their civic responsibilities. 
The Society of the Sons of the Revolution prints 
and distributes, in a dozen different languages, 
a moral and patriotic pamphlet of ‘‘Information 
for Immigrants.” The Sportsmen’s Clubs take 
an active interest in the improvement and en- 
forcement of laws for the protection of fish and 
game. The Audubon Societies in many parts 
of the country have stopped, or at least checked, 
the extermination of wild birds of beauty and 
song for the supposed adornment of women’s 
hats. 

It cannot be denied that there are still many 
and grave defects in the common order of 
America. For example, when a bitter and pro- 
longed conflict between organised capital and 
organised labour paralyses some necessary in- 
199 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


dustry, we have no definite and sure way of 
protecting that great third party, the helpless 
consuming public. In the coal strike, a few 
years ago^ the operators and the workmen were 
at a deadlock, and there was a good prospect 
that many people would freeze to death. But 
President Roosevelt, with the approval of men 
like ex-President Cleveland, forced or persuaded 
the two warring parties to go on with the min- 
ing of coal, while a committee of impartial arbi- 
tration settled their dispute. 

We have little uniformity in our game laws, 
our forestry laws, our laws for the preservation 
and purity of the local water-supply. As these 
things are left to the control of the separate 
States, it will be very diflScult to bring them all 
into harmony and good order. 

The same thing is true of a much more im- 
portant matter, — the laws of marriage and di- 
vorce. Each State and Territory has its own 
legislation on this subject. In consequence 
there are fifty-one distinct divorce codes in the 
United States and their Territories. South 
Carolina grants no divorce; New York and 
North Carolina admit only one cause; New 
Hampshire admits fourteen. In some of the 
States, like South Dakota, a legal residence of 
six months is sufficient to qualify a person to 
200 


COMMON ORDER AND COOPERATION 


sue for a divorce; and those States have always 
a transient colony of people who are anxious 
to secure a rapid separation. 

The provisions in regard to re-marriage are 
various and confusing. A man who is divorced 
under the law of South Dakota and marries 
again can be convicted of bigamy in New 
York. 

All this is immensely disorderly and de- 
moralising. The latest statistics which are ac- 
cessible show that there were 25,000 divorces in 
the United States in the year 1886. The an- 
nual number at present is estimated at nearly 
60,000. 

But the work which is being done by the 
National League for the Protection of the 
Family, and the united efforts of the churches, 
which have been deeply impressed with the 
need of awakening and elevating public senti- 
ment on this subject, have already produced 
an improvement in many States. It is pos- 
sible that a much greater uniformity of legis- 
lation may be reached, even though a national 
law may not be feasible. It is certain that the 
effective protection of the family must be secured 
in America, as elsewhere, by a social education 
and cooperation which will teach men and 
women to think of the whole subject ‘‘rever- 
201 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


ently, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly 
considering the causes for which marriage was 
ordained.” 

In this, and in all other things of like nature, 
we Americans look into the future not without 
misgivings and fears, but with an underlying 
confidence that the years will bring a larger 
and nobler common order, and that the Republic 
will be peace. 

In the minor problems we shall make many 
mistakes. In the great problems, in the pressing 
emergencies, we rely upon the moral power in 
reserve. The sober soul of the people is neither 
frivolous nor fanatical. It is earnest, ethical, 
desirous of the common good, responsive to 
moral appeal, capable of self-control, and, in 
the time of need, strong for seh-sacrifice. It 
has its hours of illusion, its intervals of indiffer- 
ence and drowsiness. But while there are men 
and women passionately devoted to its highest 
ideals, and faithful in calling it to its duties, 
it will not wholly slumber nor be lost in death. 


202 


VI 


PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT AND 
EDUCATION 

^^HE Spirit of America shows its ingrained 
^ individualism nowhere more clearly than 
in education. First, by the breadth of the pro- 
vision which it makes, up to a certain point, 
for everybody who wishes to be educated. 
Second, by the entire absence of anything like 
a centralised control of education. Third, by 
the remarkable evolution of different types of 
educational institutions and the hberty of choice 
which they offer to each student. 

All this is in the nature of evidence to the 
existence of a fifth quality in the Spirit of 
America, closely connected with the sense of 
self-reliance and a strong will-power, intimately 
related to the love of fair play and common 
order, — sl keen appreciation of the value of per- 
sonal development. 

Here again, as in the previous lectures, what 
we have to observe and follow is not a logical 
syllogism, nor a geometrical proposition neatly 
and accurately worked out. It is a natural proc- 
ess of self-realisation. It is the history of the 
203 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


soul of a people learning how to think for itself. 
As in government, in social order, in organised 
industry, so in education, America has followed, 
not the line of least resistance, nor the line of 
abstract doctrine, but the line of vital impulse. 

And whence did this particular impulse 
spring From a sense of the real value of 
knowledge to man as man. From a conviction 
that there is no natural right more precious 
than the right of the mind to grow. From a 
deep instinct of prudence reminding a nation 
in which the people are sovereign that it must 
attend to ‘Hhe education of the prince.” 

These are the feelings and convictions, very 
plain and primitive in their nature, which were 
shared by the real makers of America, and which 
have ever since controlled her real leaders. They 
are in striking contrast with the views expressed 
by some of the strangers who were sent out in 
early times to govern the colonies; as, for ex- 
ample, that Royal Governor Berkeley who, 
writing home to England from Virginia in the 
seventeenth century, thanked God that ‘"no 
public schools nor printing-presses existed in 
the colony,” and added his “hope that they 
would not be introduced for a hundred years, 
since learning brings irreligion and disobedience 
into the world, and the printing-press dissemi- 
204 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

nates them and fights against the best intentions 
of the government.” 

But this Governor Berkeley was of a different 
type from that Bishop Berkeley who came to 
the western world to establish a missionary 
training-school, and, failing in that, gave his 
real estate at Newport and his library of a thou- 
sand books to the infant Yale College at New 
Haven; of a different type from those Dutch 
colonists of New Amsterdam who founded the 
first American public school in 1621; of a dif- 
ferent type from those Puritan colonists of 
Massachusetts Bay who established the Bos- 
ton Latin School in 1635 and Harvard College 
in 1636; of a different type from Franklin, who 
founded the Philadelphia Circulating Library 
in 1731, the American Philosophical Society in 
1744, and the Academy of Pennsylvania in 
1749; of a different type from Washington, 
who urged the foundation of a national uni- 
versity and left property for its endowment by 
his last will and testament; of a different type 
from Jefferson, who desired to have it recorded 
upon his tombstone that he had rendered three 
services to his country — the framing of the 
Declaration of Independence, the establishment 
of religious liberty in Virginia, and the founding 
of the University of that State. 

205 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Among the men who were most responsible, 
from the beginning, for the rise and growth 
and continuance of the spirit of self-reliance 
and fair play, of active energy and common 
order in America, there was 'hardly one who 
did not frequently express his conviction that 
the spread of public intelligence was necessary 
to these ends. Among those who have been 
most influential in the guidance of the Republic, 
nothing is more remarkable than their agree- 
ment in the opinion that education, popular 
and special, is friendly to republican institu- 
tions. 

This agreement is not a mere formal adher- 
ence to an academic principle learned in the 
same school. For there has been the greatest 
possible difference in the schooling of these 
men. Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, 
Hamilton, Webster, Hayes, Garfield, Harrison, 
Roosevelt, had a college training; Washington, 
Franklin, Marshall, Jackson, Van Buren, Clay, 
Lincoln, Cleveland, McKinley, did not. 

The sincere respect for education which is 
typical of the American spirit is not a result 
of education. It is a matter of intuitive belief, 
of mental character, of moral temperament. 
First of all, the sure conviction that every Amer- 
ican child ought to have the chance to go to 
206 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


school, to learn to read, to write, to think; 
second, the general notion that it is both fair 
and wise to make an open way for every one 
who is talented and ambitious to climb as far 
as he can and will in the higher education; 
third, the vague feeling that it will be to the 
credit and benefit of democracy not only to 
raise the average level of intelligence, but also 
to produce men and institutions of commanding 
excellence in learning and science and philos- 
ophy, — these are the three elements which you 
will find present in varying degrees in the views 
of typical Americans in regard to education. 

I say that you will find these elements in 
varying degrees, because there has been, and 
there still is, some divergence of opinion as to 
the comparative emphasis to be laid on these 
three points— the schoolhouse door open to 
everybody, the college career open to all the 
talents, and the university providing unlimited 
opportunities for the disinterested pursuit of 
knowledge. 

Which is the most important ? How far may 
the State go in promoting the higher educa- 
tion.^ Is it right to use the public funds, con- 
tributed by all the taxpayers, for the special 
advantage of those who have superior intellec- 
tual powers? Where is the line to be drawn 
207 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


between the education which fits a boy for 
citizenship, and that which merely gratifies his 
own tastes or promotes his own ambition ? 

These are questions which have been seri- 
ously, and, at times, bitterly debated in Amer- 
ica. But, meantime, education has gone 
steadily and rapidly forward. The little public 
school of New Amsterdam has developed into 
an enormous common-school system covering 
the United States and all their Territories. 
The little Harvard College at Cambridge has 
become the mother of a vast brood of institu- 
tions, public and private, which give all kinds 
of instruction, philosophical, scientific, literary, 
and technical, and which call themselves col- 
leges or universities according to their own 
fancy and will. 

A foreigner visiting the country for the first 
time might well think it had a touch of academic 
mania. A lecturer invited to describe the 
schools and colleges of the United States in a 
single discourse might well feel as embarrassed 
as that famous diplomat to whom his companion 
at dinner said, between the soup and the fish, 
‘T am so glad to meet you, for now you can tell 
me all about the Far Eastern Question and 
make me understand it.” Let me warn you 
against expecting anything of that kind in this 
208 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


lecture. I am at least well enough educated to 
know that it is impossible to tell all about 
American education in an hour. The most that 
I can hope to do is to touch on three points: — 
First, the absence of centralised control and 
the process of practical unification in educa- 
tional work in the United States. 

Second, the growth and general character of 
the common schools as an expression of the 
Spirit of America. 

Third, the relation of the colleges, universities, 
and technical institutes to the life of the republic. 

I. First, it should be distinctly understood 
and remembered that there is absolutely no na- 
tional system of education in America, 

The government at Washington has neither 
power nor responsibility in regard to it. There 
is no Ministry of Public Instruction; there are 
no Federal Inspectors; there is no regulation 
from the centre. The whole thing is local and 
voluntary to a degree which must seem to a 
Frenchman incomprehensible if not reprehensi- 
ble. In consequence it is both simple and com- 
plicated, — simple in its practical working, and 
extremely complicated in its general aspect. 

The reasons for this lack of a national system 
and a centralised control are not far to seek. 
In the first place, at the time when the Union 
209 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


was formed, many different European influ- 
ences were already at work fostering different 
educational ideals in various parts of the coun- 
try. No doubt the English influence was pre- 
dominant, especially in New England. Harvard 
College at Cambridge in Massachusetts may be 
regarded as the legitimate child of Emmanuel 
College at Cambridge in England. But the de- 
velopment of free common schools, especially 
in the Middle States, was more largely affected 
by the example of Holland, France, and Swit- 
zerland than by that of England. The Pres- 
byterians of New Jersey, when they founded 
Princeton College in 1746, naturally turned to 
Scotland for a model. 

In Virginia, through Thomas Jefferson, a 
strong French influence was felt. A French- 
man, Quesnay, who had fought in the American 
army of the Revolution, proposed to establish a 
National Academy of Arts and Sciences in Rich- 
mond, with branches at Baltimore, Philadelphia, 
and New York, to give advanced instruction in 
all branches of human learning. He had the 
approval of many of the best people in France 
and Virginia, and succeeded in raising 60,000 
francs towards the endowment. The corner- 
stone of a building was laid, and one professor 
was chosen. But the scheme failed, because, 
210 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


in 1786, both America and France were busy 
and poor. Jefferson’s plan for the University 
of Virginia, which was framed on French lines, 
was put into successful operation in 1825. 

It would have been impossible at any time 
in the early history of the United States — indeed, 
I think it would be impossible now — to get a 
general agreement among the friends of edu- 
cation in regard to the form and method of a 
national system. 

Another obstacle to a national system was 
the fact that the colleges founded before the 
Revolution — ^William and Mary, Harvard, Yale, 
Princeton, Columbia — were practically sup- 
ported and animated by different churches — 
Congregational, Presbyterian, or Episcopalian. 
Churches are not easy to combine. 

Still another obstacle, and a more important 
one, was the sentiment of local independence, 
the spirit of home rule which played such a 
prominent part in the American drama. Each 
of the distinct States composing the Union was 
tenacious of its own individuality, and jealous 
of the local rights by which alone that individu- 
ality could be preserved. The most significant 
and potent of these rights was that of educating 
the children and youth of the community. 

The States which entered the Union later 
211 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


brought with them the same feeling of local 
pride and responsibility. Ohio with its New 
England traditions, Kentucky with its Southern 
traditions, Michigan with its large infusion of 
French blood and thought, Wisconsin with its 
vigorous German and Scandinavian element, — 
each of these communities felt competent and 
in honour bound to attend to its own educational 
affairs. So far as the establishment and con- 
trol of schools, colleges, and universities is con- 
cerned, every State of the Union is legally as 
independent of all the other States as if they 
were separate European countries like France 
and Germany and Switzerland. Therefore, we 
may say that the American system of education 
is not to have a system. 

But if we stop here, we rest upon one of those 
half-truths which are so dear to the pessimist 
and the satirist. The bare statement that there 
is no national system of education in America 
by no means exhausts the subject. Taken by 
itself, it gives a false impression. Abstract 
theory and formal regulation are not the only 
means of unification. Nature and human na- 
ture have their own secrets for creating unity 
in diversity. This is the process which has 
been at work in American education. 

First of all, there has been a general agree- 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

ment among the States in regard to the vital 
necessity of education in a republic. The con- 
stitution of Massachusetts, adopted in 1780, 
reads thus: ‘‘Wisdom and knowledge, as well 
as virtue, diffused generally among the people, 
being necessary for the preservation of their 
rights and liberties; and as these depend on 
spreading the opportunities and advantages of 
education in the various parts of the country, 
and among the different orders of the people, 
it shall be the duty of legislatures and magis- 
trates, in all future periods of this Common- 
wealth, to cherish the interests of literature and 
the sciences, and all seminaries of them, es- 
pecially the university at Cambridge, public 
schools, and grammar schools in the towns; to 
encourage private societies and public institu- 
tions, rewards and immunities, for the promo- 
tion of agriculture, arts, sciences, commerce, 
trades, manufactures, and a natural history of 
the country; to countenance and inculcate the 
principles of humanity and general benevolence, 
public and private charity, industry and fru- 
gality, honesty and punctuality, in their deal- 
ings, sincerity, good humour, and all social affec- 
tions and generous sentiments among the peo- 
ple.’’ After such a sentence, one needs to take 
a breath. It is a full programme of American 
idealism, written in English of the eighteenth 
213 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


century, when people had plenty of time. The 
new constitution of North Carolina adopted in 
1868 puts the same idea in terse modem style: 
“The people have the right to the privilege of 
education, and it is the duty of the State to 
guard and maintain that right.” You will find 
the same principle expressed in the constitutions 
of all the American commonwealths. 

In the next place, the friendly competition 
and rivalry among the States produced a ten- 
dency to unity in education. No State wished 
to be left behind. The Southern States, which 
for a long time had neglected the matter of free 
common schools, were forced by the growth of 
illiteracy, after the Civil War, to provide for 
the schooling of their children at public ex- 
pense. The Western States, coming into the 
Union one by one, had a feeling of pride in offer- 
ing to their citizens facilities for education which 
should be at least equal to those offered in “the 
effete East.” It is worthy of note that the most 
flourishing State Universities now are west of 
the Alleghanies. The only States which at 
present (1908) have more than 90 per cent of 
the children from five to eighteen years of age 
enrolled in the common schools are Colorado, 
Nevada, Idaho, and Washington, — all in the 
far West. 

Furthermore, the free intercourse and ex- 
214 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


change of population between the States have 
made for unity in the higher education. Meth- 
ods which have proved successful in one com- 
munity have been imitated and adopted in 
others. Experiments tried at Harvard, Yale, 
Princeton, or Columbia have been repeated in 
the West and South. Teachers trained in the 
older colleges have helped to organise and de- 
velop the new ones. 

Nor has this process of assimilation been 
confined to American ideas and models. Eu- 
ropean methods have been carefully studied 
and adapted to the needs and conditions of 
the United States. I happen to know of a new 
Institute which has been recently founded in 
Texas by a gift of eight millions of dollars. The 
president-elect is a scientific man who has 
already studied in France and Germany and 
achieved distinction in his department. But 
before he touches the building and organisation 
of his new Institute, he is sent to Europe for 
a year to see the oldest and the newest and 
the best that has been done there. In fact, 
the Republic of Learning to-day is the true 
Cosmopolis. It knows no barriers of national- 
ity. It seeks truth and wisdom everywhere, 
and wherever it finds them, it claims them for 
its own. 


215 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


The spirit of voluntary cooperation for the 
promotion of the common order, of which I 
spoke in a previous lecture, has made itself felt 
in education by the formation of Teachers’ As- 
sociations in the various States, and groups of 
States, and by the foundation of the National 
Educational Association, a voluntary body in- 
corporated in the District of Columbia, ‘‘to 
elevate the character and advance the inter- 
ests of the profession of teaching, and to pro- 
mote the cause of education in the United 
States.” 

Finally, while there is no national centre of 
authority for education in the United States, 
there is a strong central force of encouragement 
and enlightenment. The Federal Government 
shows its interest in education in several ways: 
First, in the enormous grants of public lands 
which it has made from the beginning for the 
endowment of common schools and higher in- 
stitutions in the various States. 

Second, in the control and support of the 
United States Military Academy at West Point, 
the Naval Academy at Annapolis, the Indian 
Schools, the National Museum, and the Con- 
gressional Library, and in the provision which 
it makes for agricultural and mechanical schools 
in different parts of the country. The annual 
216 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


budget for these purposes runs from twelve to 
twenty millions of dollars a year (1908). 

Third, in the establishment of a National 
Bureau of Education which collects statistics 
and information and distributes reports on all 
subjects connected with the educational in- 
terests of America. The Commissioner at the 
head of this bureau is a man of high standing 
and scholarship. He is chosen without reference 
to politics, and holds his oflSce independent of 
party. He has no authority to make appoint- 
ments or regulations. But he has a large in- 
fluence, through the light which he throws upon 
the actual condition of education, in promoting 
the gradual and inevitable process of unifica- 
tion. 

Let me try to sum up what I have been say- 
ing on this difficult subject of the lack of system 
and the growth of unity in American education. 
There is no organisation from the centre. But 
there is a distinct organisation from the pe- 
riphery, — if I may use a scientific metaphor of 
such an unscientific character. The formative 
principle is the development of the individual. 

What, then, does the average American boy 
find in his country to give him a series of suc- 
cessive opportunities to secure this personal 
development of mental and moral powers? 

217 


THE SPIRIT OP AMERICA 


First, a public primary school and grammar 
school which will give him the rudiments of 
learning from his sixth to his fourteenth year. 
Then a public high school which will give him 
about what a French lycee gives from his four- 
teenth to his eighteenth year. He is now ready 
to enter the higher education. Up to this point, 
if he lives in a town of any considerable size, 
he has not been obliged to go away from home. 
Many of the smaller places of three or four 
thousand inhabitants have good high schools. 
If he lives in the country, he may have had 
to go to the nearest city or large town for his 
high school or academy. 

Beyond this point, he finds either a college, 
as it is called in America, or the collegiate de- 
partment in one of the universities, which will 
give him a four years’ course of general study. 
Before he can begin this, he must pass what is 
called an entrance examination, which is prac- 
tically uniform in all the better institutions, 
and almost, but perhaps not quite, equivalent 
to the examination in France for the degree of 
bachelier. Thus a certain standard of prepara- 
tion is set for all the secondary schools. It is 
at the end of his general course in literature, 
science, and philosophy that the American 
student gets his bachelor’s degree, which corre- 
218 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


spends pretty nearly to the French degree of 
licende in letters and sciences. 

Now the student, a young man of about 
twenty-one or twenty-two years, is supposed 
to be prepared, either to go into the world as 
a fairly well-educated citizen, or to continue 
his studies for a professional career. He finds 
the graduate schools of the universities ready 
to give him courses which lead to the degree of 
M.A. or Ph.D., and prepare him for the higher 
kind of teaching. The schools of law and medi- 
cine and engineering offer courses of from two 
to four years with a degree of LL.B. or M.D. 
or C.E. or M.E. at the end of them. The theo- 
logical seminaries are ready to instruct him for 
the service of the church in a course of three 
or four years. 

By this time he is twenty-four or twenty-five 
years old. Unless he has special ambitions 
which lead him to study abroad, or to take up 
original research at Johns Hopkins, Harvard, 
Columbia, Cornell, or some other specially 
equipped university, he is now ready for prac- 
tical work. The American idea is that he should 
now go to work and get the rest of his education 
in practice. 

Of course there have been short cuts and ir- 
regular paths open to him all along the way, — 
219 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


a short cut from the high school to the technical 
school, — a short cut into law or medicine by 
the way of private preparation for the examina- 
tion, which in some States is absurdly low. 
But these short cuts are being closed up very 
rapidly. It is growing more difficult to get 
into a first-class professional school without a 
collegiate or university degree. Already, if the 
American student wants system and regularity, 
he can get a closely articulated course, fitted 
to his individual needs, from the primary school 
up to the door of his profession. 

But the real value of that course depends 
upon two things that are beyond the power of 
any system to insure — the personal energy that 
he brings to his work, and the personal power 
of the professors under whom he studies. I- 
suppose the same thing is true in France as in 
America. Neither here nor there can you find 
equality of results. All you have a right to 
expect is equality of opportunity. 

II. The great symbol and instrument of this 
idea of equal opportunity in the United States 
is the common school. In every State of the 
Union provision is made for the education of 
the children at public expense. The extent 
and quality of this education, the methods of 
control, the standards of equipment, even the 
220 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

matter of compulsory or voluntary attendance, 
vary in different States and communities. But, 
as a rule, you may say that it puts within the 
reach of every boy and girl free instruction 
from the a-h-c up to the final grade of a lycee. 
The money expended by the States on these 
common schools in 1905-1906 was $ 307 , 765 , 000 , 
— ^more than one-third of the annual expendi- 
ture of the national government for all pur- 
poses, more than twice as much as the State 
governments spent for all other purposes. This 
sum, you understand, was raised by direct, 
local taxation. Neither the import duties nor 
the internal revenue contributed anything to 
it. It came directly from the citizen’s pocket, 
at the rate of $ 3.66 a year per capita^ or nearly 
$13 a year for every grown-up man. 

How many children were benefited by it.^ 
Who can tell? 16 , 600,000 boys and girls were 
enrolled in the public schools (that is to say, 
more than 70 per cent of the whole number of 
children between five and eighteen years of 
age, and about 20 per cent of the total popula- 
tion). The teachers employed were 109,000 
men, 356,000 women. The average daily ex- 
penditure for each pupil was 17 cents; the 
average annual expenditure, about $ 25 . 

In addition to this number there are at least 
221 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


1,500,000 children in privately endowed and 
supported schools, secular or religious. The 
Catholic Church has a system of parochial 
schools which is said to provide for about a 
million children. Many of the larger Protestant 
Churches support high schools and academies 
of excellent quality. Some of the most famous 
secondary schools, like Phillips Exeter and 
Andover, St. PauFs, Groton, the Hill School, 
Lawrenceville School, are private foundations 
well endowed. 

These figures do not mean much to the imag- 
ination. Statistics are like grapes in their skins. 
You have to put a pressure upon them to ex- 
tract any wine. Observe, then, that if you 
walked through an American town between 
eight and nine in the morning, and passed a 
thousand people indoors and out, more than 
two hundred of them would be children going 
to school. Perhaps twenty of these children 
would turn in at private schools, or church 
schools. But nine-tenths of the little crowd 
would be on their way to the public schools. 
The great majority of the children would be 
under fourteen years of age; for only about 
one child out of every twenty goes beyond that 
point in schooling. Among the younger chil- 
dren the boys would outnumber the girls a little. 

222 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


But in the small group of high-school children 
there would be three girls to two boys, because 
the boys have to go to work earlier to earn a 
living. 

Suppose you followed one of these groups of 
children into the school, what would you find.^ 
That would depend entirely upon local circum- 
stances. You might find a splendid building 
with modern fittings; you might find an old- 
fashioned building, overcrowded and ill-fitted. 
Each State, as I have said before, has its own 
common-school system. And not only so, but 
within the State there are smaller units of 
organisation — the coimty, the township, the 
school district. Each of these may have its 
own school board, conservative or progressive, 
generous or stingy, and the quality and equip- 
ment of the schools will vary accordingly. They 
represent pretty accurately the general en- 
lightenment and moral tone of the community. 

Wealth has something to do with it, of 
course. People cannot spend money unless 
they have it. The public treasury is not a For- 
tunatus’ purse which fills itself. In the remote 
country districts, the little red schoolhouse, 
with its single room, its wooden benches, its 
iron stove, its unpainted flagstaff, stands on 
some hill-top without a tree to shadow it, in 
22S 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


brave, unblushing poverty. In the richer cities 
there are common school palaces with an aspect 
of splendour which is almost disconcerting. 

Yet it is not altogether a question of wealth. 
It is also a question of public spirit. Baltimore 
is nearly as large and half as rich as Boston, 
yet Boston spends about three times as much 
on her schools. Richmond has about the same 
amount of taxable property as Rochester, N. Y., 
yet Richmond spends only one-quarter as much 
on her schools. Houston, Texas; Wilmington, 
Delaware; Harrisburg, Pennsylvania; Trenton, 
New Jersey; New Bedford, Massachusetts; 
and Des Moines, Iowa, are six cities with a 
population of from 80,000 to 100,000 each, and 
not far apart in wealth. But their public-school 
bills in 1906 varied as follows: Des Moines, 
$492,000; New Bedford, $472,000; Harris- 
burg, $304,000; Trenton, $300,000; Wilming- 
ton, $226,000; and Houston, the richest of 
the six, $163,000 (1908). 

If you should judge from this that the public 
schools are most liberally supported in the 
North Atlantic, North Central, and Far West- 
ern States, you would be right. The amount 
that is contributed to the common schools per 
adult male inhabitant is largest in the following 
States in order: Utah, $22; North Dakota, 
224 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


$21; New York, $20; Colorado, $20; Massa- 
chusetts, $19; South Dakota, $19; Nebraska, 
$17; and Pennsylvania, $16. The comparative 
weakness of the common schools in the South 
Atlantic and South Central States has led to 
the giving of large sums of money by private 
benevolence, the Peabody Fund, the Slater 
Fund, the Southern Education Fund, which 
are administered by boards of trustees for the 
promotion of education in these backward 
regions. The Spirit of America strongly de- 
sires to spread, to improve, to equalise and 
coordinate, the public schools of the whole 
country. 

Is it succeeding ? What lines is it following ? 
Where are the changes most apparent ? 

First of all, there is a marked advance in 
the physical equipment of the common school. 
In the villages and in the rural districts the 
new buildings are larger and more commodious 
than the old ones. In many parts of the coun- 
try the method of concentration is employed. 
Instead of half a dozen poor little schoolhouses 
scattered over the hills, one good house is built 
in a central location, and the children are gath- 
ered from the farmhouses by school omnibuses 
or by the electric trolley-cars. Massachusetts 
made a law in 1894 requiring every township 
225 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


which did not have a high school to pay the 
transportation expenses of all qualified pupils 
who wished to attend the high schools of neigh- 
bouring towns. 

In many States text-books are provided at 
the public cost. In the cities the increased 
attention to the physical side of things is even 
more noticeable. No expense is spared to make 
the new buildings attractive and convenient. 
Libraries and laboratories, gymnasiums and 
toilet-rooms, are provided. In some cities a 
free lunch is given to the pupils. 

The school furniture is of the latest and most 
approved pattern. The old idea of the adjust- 
able child who could be fitted to any kind of 
a seat or desk, has given way to the new idea 
of the adjustable seat and desk which can be 
fitted to any kind of a child. School doctors 
are employed to make a physical examination 
of the children. In a few cities there are school 
nurses to attend to the pupils who are slightly 
ailing. 

Physical culture, in the form of calisthenics, 
military drill, gymnastics, is introduced. Ath- 
letic organisations, foot-ball clubs, base-ball 
clubs, are encouraged among the boys. In 
every way the effort is apparent to make school 
life attractive, more comfortable, more healthful. 

226 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


Some critics say that the effort is excessive, 
that it spoils and softens the children, that it 
has distracted their attention from the serious 
business of hard study. I do not know. It 
is difficult for a man to remember just how 
serious he was when he was a boy. Perhaps 
the modern common-school pupil is less Spar- 
tan and resolute than his father used to be. 
Perhaps not. Pictures on the wall and flowers 
in the window, gymnastics and music, may not 
really distract the attention more than uncom- 
fortable seats and bad ventilation. 

Another marked tendency in the American 
common school, at least in the large towns and 
cities, is the warm, one might almost say fever- 
ish, interest in new courses and methods of 
study. In the primary schools this shows it- 
self chiefly in the introduction of new ways of 
learning to spell and to cipher. The alphabet 
and the multiplication table are no longer re- 
garded as necessities. The phonetic pupil is 
almost in danger of supposing that reading, 
writing, and arithmetic are literally ‘‘the three 
r’s.’" Hours are given to nature-study, object- 
lessons, hygiene. Children of tender years are 
instructed in the mysteries of the digestive 
system. The range of mental effort is im- 
mensely diversified 


227 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


In the high schools the increase of educa- 
tional novelties is even more apparent. The 
courses are multiplied and divided. Elective 
studies are offered in large quantity. I take 
an example from the programme of a Western 
high school. The studies required of all pupils 
are: English, history, algebra, plane geometry, 
biology, physics, and Shakespeare. The studies 
offered for a choice are: psychology, ethics, 
commercial law, civics, economics, arithmetic, 
bookkeeping, higher algebra, solid geometry, 
trigonometry, penmanship, phonography, draw- 
ing and the history of art, chemistry, Latin, 
German, French, Spanish, and Greek. This 
is quite a rich intellectual bill of fare for boys 
and girls between fourteen and eighteen years 
old. It seems almost encyclopaedic, — though 
I miss a few subjects like Sanskrit, Egyptology, 
photography, and comparative religions. 

The fact is that in the American high schools, 
as in the French lyceeSy the effort to enlarge 
and vary the curriculum by introducing studies 
which are said to be ‘‘urgently required by 
modern conditions” has led to considerable 
confusion of educational ideals. But with us, 
while the extremes are worse, owing to the lack 
of the central control, the disorder is less uni- 
versal, because the conservative schools have 
228 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


been free to adhere to a simpler programme. 
It is a good thing, no doubt, that the rigidity 
of the old system, which made every pupil go 
through the same course of classics and mathe- 
matics, has been relaxed. But our danger now 
lies in the direction of using our schools to fit 
boys and girls to make a living, rather than 
to train them in a sound and vigorous intellec- 
tual life. For this latter purpose it is not true 
that all branches of study are of equal value. 
Some are immensely superior. We want, not 
the widest range, but the best selection. 

There are some points in which the public 
schools of America, so far as one can judge from 
the general reports, are inferior to those of 
France. One of these points, naturally, is in 
the smooth working that comes from uniform- 
ity and coordination. Another point, strangely 
enough, is in the careful provision for moral 
instruction in the primary schools. At least 
in the programmes of the French schools much 
more time and attention are given to this than 
in the American programmes. 

Another point of inferiority In the United 
States is in the requirement of proper prepara- 
tion and certification of all teachers; and still 
another is in the security of their tenure of oflBce 
and the length of their service in the profession. 

229 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


The teaching force of the American schools is 
a noble army; but it would be more efficient 
if the regular element were larger in proportion 
to the volunteers. The 'personnel changes too 
often. 

One reason for this, no doubt, is the fact that 
the women outnumber the men by three to 
one. Not that the women are poorer teachers. 
Often, especially in primary work, they are the 
best. But their average term of professional 
service is not over four years. They are inter- 
rupted by that great accident, matrimony, 
which invites a woman to stop teaching, and 
a man to continue. 

The shortage of male teachers, which exists 
in so many countries, is felt in extreme form 
in the United States. Efforts are made to 
remedy it by the increase of normal schools 
and teachers’ colleges, and by a closer connec- 
tion between the universities and the public- 
school system. 

In the conduct and development of the com- 
mon schools we see the same voluntary, ex- 
perimental, pragmatic way of doing things that 
is so characteristic of the Spirit of America in 
every department of life. “Education,” say the 
Americans, “is desirable, profitable, and neces- 
sary. The best way for us to get it is to work 
230 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


it out for ourselves. It must be practically 
adapted to the local conditions of each com- 
munity, and to the personal needs of the in- 
dividual. The being of the child must be the 
centre of development. What we want to do 
is to make good citizens for American purposes. 
Liberty must be the foundation, unity the 
superstructure. ’ ’ 

This, upon the whole, is what the common 
schools are doing for the United States: Three- 
fourths of the children of the country (boys and 
girls studying together from their sixth to their 
eighteenth year) are in them. They are im- 
mensely democratic. They are stronger in 
awakening the mind than in training it. They 
do more to stimulate quick perception than to 
cultivate sound judgment and correct taste. 
Their principles are always good, their manners 
sometimes. Universal knowledge is their foible; 
activity is their temperament; energy and sin- 
cerity are their virtues; superficiality is their 
defect. 

Candour compels me to add one more touch 
to this thumb-nail sketch of the American com- 
mon school. The children of the rich, the 
socially prominent, the higher classes, if you 
choose to call them so, are not generally found 
in the public schools. At least in the East and 
231 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the South, most of these children are educated 
in private schools and academies. 

One cause of this is mere fashion. But there 
are two other causes which may possibly de- 
serve to be called reasons, good or bad. 

The first is the fear that coeducation, instead 
of making the boys refined and the girls hardy, 
may effeminate the boys and roughen the girls. 

The second is the wish to secure more thor- 
ough and personal teaching in smaller classes. 
This the private schools offer, usually at a high 
price. In the older universities and colleges, a 
considerable part, if not the larger number, of 
the student body, comes from private prepara- 
tory schools and academies. Yet it must be 
noted that of the men who take high honours 
in scholarship a steadily increasing number, 
already a majority, are graduates of the free 
public high schools. 

This proves what? That the State can give 
the best if it wants to. That it is much more 
likely to want to do so if it is enlightened, stim- 
ulated, and guided by the voluntary effort of 
the more intelligent part of the community. 

III. This brings me to the last division of 
the large subject around which I have been 
hastily circling: the institutions of higher edu- 
cation, — universities, colleges, and technological 
2S2 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

schools. Remember that in America these dif- 
ferent names are used with bewildering free- 
dom. They are not definitions, nor even de- 
scriptions; they are simply ‘"tags.” A school of 
arts and trades, a school of modern languages, 
may call itself a university. An institution of 
liberal studies, with professional departments 
and graduate schools attached to it, may call 
itself a college. The size and splendour of the 
label does not determine the value of the wine 
in the bottle. The significance of an academic 
degree in America depends not on the name, 
but on the quality, of the institution that con- 
fers it. 

But, generally speaking, you may under- 
stand that a college is an institution which 
gives a four years’ course in liberal arts and 
sciences, for which four years of academic prep- 
aration are required: a university adds to this, 
graduate courses, and one or more professional 
schools of law, medicine, engineering, divinity, 
or pedagogy; a technological school is one in 
which the higher branches of the applied arts 
and sciences are the chief subjects of study 
and in which only scientific degrees are con- 
ferred. 

Of these three kinds of institutions, 622 re- 
ported to the United States Bureau of Educa- 
233 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


tion in 1906: 158 were for men only; 129 were 
for women only; 335 were coeducational. The 
number of professors and instructors was 24,000. 
The number of undergraduate and resident 
graduate students was 136,000. The income 
of these institutions for the year was $40,- 
000,000, of which a little less than half came 
from tuition fees, and a little more than half 
from gifts and endowments. The value of the 
real estate and equipment was about $280,- 
000,000, and the invested funds for endowment 
amounted to $236,000,000. 

These are large figures. But they do not 
convey any very definite idea to the mind, until 
we begin to investigate them and ask what 
they mean. How did this enormous enterprise 
of higher education come into being? Who 
supports it ? What is it doing ? 

There are three ways in which the colleges 
and universities of America have originated. 
They have been founded by the churches to 
‘‘provide a learned and godly ministry, and to 
promote knowledge and sound intelligence in 
the community.” They have been endowed 
by private and personal gifts and benefactions. 
They have been established by States, and in 
a few cases by cities, to complete and crown 
the conunon-school system. 

234 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


But note that in the course of time important 
changes have occurred. Most of the older and 
larger universities which were at first prac- 
tically supported and controlled by churches, 
have now become independent and are main- 
tained by non-sectarian support. The institu- 
tions which remain under control of churches 
are the smaller colleges, the majority of which 
were established between 1810 and 1870. 

The universities established by a large gift 
or bequest from a single person, of which Johns 
Hopkins in Maryland, Leland Stanford in Cali- 
fornia, and Chicago University founded by the 
head of the Standard Oil Company, may be 
taken as examples, are of comparatively recent 
origin. Their immediate command of large 
wealth has enabled them to do immense things 
quickly. Chicago is called by a recent writer 
University by enchantment.’’ 

In the foundation of State universities the 
South led the way with the Universities of Ten- 
nessee, North Carolina, and Georgia, at the 
end of the eighteenth century. But since that 
time the West has distinctly taken the lead. 
Out of the twenty-nine colleges and universities 
which report an enrolment of over a thousand 
undergraduate and graduate students, sixteen 
235 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

are State institutions, and fourteen of these 
are west of the Alleghanies. 

It is in these State universities, especially in 
the Middle West, in Michigan, Wisconsin, Il- 
linois, Minnesota, Iowa, that you will see the 
most remarkable illustration of that thirst for 
knowledge, that ambition for personal develop- 
ment, which is characteristic of the Spirit of 
Young America. 

The thousands of sons and daughters of 
farmers, mechanics, and tradesmen, who flock 
to these institutions, are full of eagerness and 
hope. They are no respecters of persons, but 
they have a tremendous faith in the power of 
education. They all expect to succeed in getting 
it, and to succeed in life by means of it. They 
are alert, inquisitive, energetic; in their work 
strenuous, and in their play enthusiastic. They 
diffuse around them an atmosphere of joyous 
endeavour, — a nervous, electric, rude, and brac- 
ing air. They seem irreverent; but for the 
most part they are only intensely earnest and 
direct. They pursue their private aim with 
intensity. They ‘‘want to know.” They may 
not be quite sure what it is that they want to 
know. But they have no doubt that knowledge 
is an excellent thing, and they have come to 
236 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


the university to get it. This strong desire to 
learn, this attitude of concentrated attack upon 
the secrets of the universe, seems to me less 
noticeable among the students of the older col- 
leges of the East than it is in these new big in- 
stitutions of the Centre and the West. 

The State imiversities which have developed 
it, or grown up to meet it, are in many cases 
wonderfully well organised and equipped. Pro- 
fessors of high standing have been brought 
from the Eastern colleges and from Europe. 
The main stress, perhaps, is laid upon practical 
results, and the technique of industry. Studies 
which are supposed to be directly utilitarian 
take the precedence over those which are re- 
garded as merely disciplinary. But in the best 
of these institutions the idea of general culture 
is maintained. 

The University of Michigan, which is the 
oldest and the largest of these western State 
universities, still keeps its primacy with 4280 
students drawn from 48 States and Territories. 
But the Universities of Wisconsin, and Min- 
nesota, and Illinois, and California are not 
unworthy rivals. 

A member of the British Commission which 
came to study education in the United States 
237 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


four years ago gave his judgment that the 
University of Wisconsin was the foremost in 
America. Why.^ ‘‘Because,” said he, “it is 
a wholesome product of a commonwealth of 
three millions of people; sane, industrial, and 
progressive. It knits together the professions 
and labours; it makes the fine arts and the 
anvil one.” 

That is a characteristic modern opinion, com- 
ing, mark you, not from an American, but from 
an Englishman. It reminds me of the advice 
which an old judge gave to a young friend who 
had just been raised to the judicial bench. 
“Never give reasons,” said he, “for your de- 
cisions. The decision may often be right, but 
the reasons will probably be wrong.” 

A thoughtful critic would say that the union 
of “the fine arts and the anvil” was not a suf- 
ficient ground for awarding the primacy to a 
university. Its standing must be measured in 
its own sphere, — the realm of knowledge and 
wisdom. It exists for the disinterested pursuit 
of truth, for the development of the intellectual 
life, and for the rounded development of char- 
acter. Its primary aim is not to fit men for any 
specific industry, but to give them those things 
which are everywhere essential to intelligent 
238 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

living. Its attention must be fixed not on the 
work, but on the man. In him, as a person, 
it must seek to develop the powers of obser- 
vation and reflection, of intelligent sympathy 
and reasonable volition. This is the university 
ideal which a conservative critic would main- 
tain against the utilitarian theory. He might 
admire the University of Wisconsin greatly, 
but it would be for other reasons than those 
which the Englishman gave. 

“After all,” this conservative would say, 
“the older American universities are still the 
most important factors in the higher education 
of the country. They have the traditions. They 
set the standard. You cannot understand edu- 
cation in England without seeing Oxford and 
Cambridge, nor in America without seeing 
Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Coliunbia.” 

Perhaps the conservative would be right. 
At all events, I wish that I could help the friendly 
foreign observer to understand just what these 
older institutions of learning, and others like 
them, have meant and still mean to Americans. 
They are the monuments of the devotion of 
our fathers to ideal aims. They are the land- 
marks of the intellectual life of the young re- 
public. Time has changed them, but it has 
not removed them. They still adorn a region 
239 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


within which the making of a reasonable man 
is the main interest, and truth is sought and 
served for her own sake. 

Originally, these older universities were al- 
most identical in form. They were called col- 
leges and based upon the idea of a uniform four 
years’ course consisting mainly of Latin, Greek, 
and mathematics, with an addition of history, 
philosophy, and natural science in the last two 
years, and leading to the degree of Bachelor of 
Arts. This was supposed to be the way to make 
a reasonable man. 

But in the course of time the desire to seek 
truth in other regions, by other paths, led to 
a gradual enlargement and finally to an im- 
mense expansion of the curriculum. The de- 
partment of letters was opened to receive 
English and other modern languages. The 
department of philosophy branched out into 
economics and civics and experimental psychol- 
ogy. History took notice of the fact that much 
has happened since the fall of the Roman Em- 
pire. Science threw wide its doors to receive 
the new methods and discoveries of the nine- 
teenth century. The elective system of study 
came in like a flood from Germany. The old- 
fashioned curriculum was submerged and dis- 
solved. The four senior colleges came out as 
MO 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


universities and began to differentiate them- 
selves. 

Harvard, under the bold leadership of Presi- 
dent Eliot, went first and farthest in the de- 
velopment of the elective system. One of its 
own graduates, Mr. John Corbin, has recently 
written of it as ‘‘a Germanised university.” It 
offers to its students free choice among a multi- 
tude of courses so great that it is said that one 
man could hardly take them all in two hundred 
years. There is only one course which every 
undergraduate is required to take, — English 
composition in the Freshman year. 551 distinct 
courses are presented by the Faculty of Arts 
and Sciences. In the whole university there 
are 556 officers of instruction and 4,000 students. 
There is no other institution in America which 
provides such a rich, varied, and free chance 
for the individual to develop his intellectual 
life. 

Princeton, so far as the elective system is 
concerned, represents the other extreme. Presi- 
dent McCosh introduced it with Scotch caution 
and reserve, in 1875. It hardly went beyond 
the liberalising of the last two years of study. 
Other enlargements followed. But at heart 
Princeton remained conservative. It liked 
regularity, uniformity, system, more than it 
241 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


liked freedom and variety. In recent years 
it has rearranged the electives in groups, which 
compel a certain amount of unity in the main 
direction of a student’s eflfort. It has introduced 
a system of preceptors or tutors who take per- 
sonal charge of each student in his reading and 
extra class-room work. The picked men of the 
classes, who have won prizes, or scholarships, 
or fellowships, go on with higher university 
work in the graduate school. The divinity 
school is academically independent, though 
closely allied. There are no other professional 
schools. Thus Princeton is distinctly ‘‘a col- 
legiate university,” with a very definite idea 
of what a Hberal education ought to include, 
and a fixed purpose of developing the individual 
by leading him through a regulated intellectual 
discipline. 

Yale, the second in age of the American uni- 
versities, occupies a middle ground, and fills it 
with immense vigour. Very slow in yielding 
to the elective system, Yale theoretically 
adopted it four years ago in its extreme form. 
But in practice the ‘‘Yale Spirit” preserves 
the unity of each class from entrance to gradua- 
tion; the “average man” is much more of a 
controlling factor than he is at Harvard, and 
the solid body of students in the Department 
242 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


of Arts and Sciences gives tone to the whole 
university. Yale draws its support from a 
wider range of country than either Harvard 
or Princeton. It has not been a leader in the 
production of advanced ideas or educational 
methods. Originality is not its mark. Efficiency 
is. No other American university has done 
more in giving men of light and leading to in- 
dustrial, professional, and public life in the 
United States. 

Columbia, by its location in the largest of 
the American cities, and by the direction which 
its last three presidents have given to its policy, 
has become much stronger in its technical schools 
and its advanced graduate work, than in its 
undergraduate college. Its schools of mines 
and law and medicine are famous. In its grad- 
uate courses it has as many students enrolled 
as Harvard, Yale, and Michigan put together. 
It has a library of 450,000 volumes, and en- 
dowment for various kinds of special study, 
including Chinese and journalism. 

None of these four universities is coeduca- 
tional in the department of arts and sciences. 
But Harvard and Columbia each have an an- 
nex for women, — ^RadcliflFe College and Barnard 
College, — in which the university professors lec- 
ture and teach. 


243 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


In Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and most of 
the older colleges, except those which are situ- 
ated in the great cities, there is a common life 
of the students which is peculiar, I believe, to 
America, and highly characteristic and interest- 
ing. They reside together in large halls or 
dormitories grouped in an academic estate 
which is almost always beautiful with ancient 
trees and spacious lawns. There is nothing 
like the caste division among them which is 
permitted, if not fostered, at Oxford and Cam- 
bridge by the existence of distinct colleges in 
the same university. They belong to the same 
social body, a community of youth bound to- 
gether for a happy interval of four years be- 
tween the strict discipline of school and the 
separating pressure of life in the outer world. 
They have their own customs and traditions, 
often absurd, always picturesque and amusing. 
They have their own interests, chief among 
which is the cultivation of warm friendships 
among men of the same age. They organise 
their own clubs and societies, athletic, musical, 
literary, dramatic, or purely social, according 
to elective affinity. But the class spirit creates 
a ground of unity for all who enter and graduate 
together, and the college spirit makes a common 
tie for all. 


244 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

It is a little world by itself,— this American 
college life, — incredibly free, yet on the whole 
self-controlled and morally sound, — ^physically 
active and joyful, yet at bottom full of serious 
purpose. See the students on the athletic field 
at some great foot-ball or base-ball match; hear 
their volleying cheers, their ringing songs of 
encouragement or victory; watch their waving 
colours, their eager faces, their movements of 
excitement as the fortune of the game shifts 
and changes; and you might think that these 
young men cared for nothing but out-of-door 
sport. But that noisy enthusiasm is the natural 
overflow of youthful spirits. The athletic game 
gives it the easiest outlet, the simplest oppor- 
tunity to express college loyalty by an outward 
sign, a shout, a cheer, a song. Follow the same 
men from day to day, from week to week, and 
you will find that the majority of them, even 
among the athletes, know that the central ob- 
ject of their college life is to get an education. 
But they will tell you, also, that this education 
does not come only from the lecture-room, the 
class, the library. An indispensable and vital 
part of it comes from their daily contact with 
one another in play and work and comrade- 
ship, — from the chance which college gives 
them to know, and estimate, and choose, their 
friends among their fellows. 

245 


THE SPIRIT OP AMERICA 


It is intensely democratic, — this American 
college life, — and therefore it has distinctions, 
as every real democracy must. But they are 
not artificial and conventional. They are based 
in the main upon what a man is and does, what 
contribution he makes to the honour and joy 
and fellowship of the community. 

When the son of a millionnaire, of a high 
official, of a famous man, enters a college, the 
fact is noted, of course. But it is noted only 
as a curious fact which has no bearing upon 
the college world. The real question is. What 
kind of a fellow is the new man ? Is he a good 
companion; has he the power of leadership; 
can he do anything particularly well; is he a 
vigorous and friendly person ? Wealth and 
parental fame do not count, except perhaps as 
slight hindrances, because of the subconscious 
jealousy which they arouse in a community 
where the majority do not possess them. Pov- 
erty does not count at all, unless it makes the 
man himself proud and shy, or confines him so 
closely to the work of self-support that he has 
no time to mix with the other fellows. Men 
who are working their own way through college 
are often the leaders in popularity and influ- 
ence. 

I do not say that there are no social distinc- 
tions in American college life. There, as in 
246 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 

the great world, little groups of men are drawn 
together by expensive tastes and amusements; 
little coteries are formed which aim at exclusive- 
ness. But these are of no real account in the 
student body. It lives in a brisk and whole- 
some air of free competition in study and sport, 
of free intercourse on a human basis. 

It is this tone of humanity, of sincerity, of 
joyful contact with reality, in student life, that 
makes the American graduate love his college 
with a sentiment which must seem to foreigners 
almost like sentimentality. His memory holds 
her as the Alma Mater of his happiest years. 
He goes back to visit her halls, her playgrounds,, 
her shady walks, year after year, as one returns 
to a shrine of the heart. He sings the college 
songs, he joins in the college cheers, with an 
enthusiasm which does not die as his voice loses 
the ring of youth. And when gray hairs come 
upon him, he still walks with his class among 
the old graduates in the commencement pro- 
cession. It is all a little strange, a little absurd, 
perhaps, to one who watches it critically, from 
the outside. But to the man himself it is simply 
a natural tribute to the good and wholesome 
memory of American college life. 

But what are its results from the educational 
point of view? What do these colleges and 
247 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


universities do for the intellectual life of the 
country? Doubtless they are still far from 
perfect in method and achievement. Doubtless 
they let many students pass through them 
without acquiring mental thoroughness, phil- 
osophical balance, fine culture. Doubtless they 
need to advance in the standard of teaching, 
the strictness of examination, the encomage- 
ment of research. They have much to learn. 
They are learning. 

Great central institutions like those which 
Mr. Carnegie has endowed for the Promotion 
of Research and for the Advancement of Teach- 
ing will help progress. Conservative experi- 
ments and liberal experiments will lead to 
better knowledge. 

But whatever changes are made, whatever 
improvements arrive in the higher education 
in America, one thing I hope will never be given 
up, — the free, democratic, united student life 
of our colleges and universities. For without 
this factor we cannot develop the kind of in- 
tellectual person who will be at home in the 
Republic. The world in which he has to live 
will not ask him what degrees he has taken. 
It will ask him simply what he is, and what 
he can do. If he is to be a leader in a country 
where the people are sovereign, he must add 
248 


DEVELOPMENT AND EDUCATION 


to his intellectual acquirements, the faculty of 
knowing other men as they are, and of working 
with them for what they ought to be. And 
one of the best places to cultivate this faculty 
is in the student life of an American college.* 

*Will the reader please remember that the foregoing chapter was 
written in 1908 ? The general outlines of education in America re- 
main the same; but some of the details, and especially the figures in 
the statistics, have changed. 


249 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


LL human activity is, in a certain sense. 



a mode of self-expression. The works of 
man in the organisation of the State, in the 
development of industry, in voluntary effort for 
the improvement of the common order, are an 
utterance of his inner life. 

But it is natural for him to seek a fuller, 
clearer, more conscious mode of self-expression, 
to speak more directly of his ideals, thoughts, 
and feelings. It is this direct utterance of the 
Spirit of America, as it is found in literature, 
which I propose now, and in the following lec- 
tures,* to discuss. 

Around the political and ecclesiastical and 
social structures which men build for them- 
selves there are always flowing great tides and 
currents of human speech; like the discussions 

* The lectures which followed, in 1909, at the Sorbonne, on Irving, 
Cooper, Bryant, Poe, Longfellow, Hawthorne, Whittier, Emerson, Lowell, 
Whitman, and Present Tendencies in American Literature, are not in- 
cluded in this volume. This chapter is a brief and incomplete survey 
of the ground which they attempted to cover more carefully. 


250 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


in the studio of the architect, the confused mur- 
mur of talk among the workmen, the curious 
and wondering comments of the passing crowd, 
when some vast cathedral or palace or hall of 
industry is rising from the silent earth. Man 
is a talking animal. The daily debates of the 
forum and the market-place, the orations and 
lectures of a thousand platforms, the sermons 
and exhortations of the thousand pulpits, the 
ceaseless conversation of the street and the fire- 
side, all confess that one of the deepest of human 
appetites and passions is for self-expression and 
intercourse, to reveal and to communicate the 
hidden motions of the spirit that is in man. 

Language, said a cynic, is chiefly useful to 
conceal thought. But that is only a late-dis- 
covered, minor, and decadent use of speech. 
If concealment had been the first and chief 
need that man felt, he never would have made 
a language. He would have remained silent. 
He would have lived among the trees, con- 
tent with that inarticulate chatter which still 
keeps the thoughts of monkeys (if they have 
any) so well concealed. 

But vastly the greater part of human effort 
toward self-expression serves only the need of 
the transient individual, the passing hour. It 
sounds incessantly beneath the silent stars, — 
251 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


this murmur, this roar, this susurrus of mingled 
voices, — and melts continually into the vague 
inane. The idle talk of the multitude, the elo- 
quence of golden tongues, the shouts of brazen 
throats, go by and are forgotten, like the wind 
that passes through the rustling leaves of the 
forest. 

In the fine arts man has invented not only 
a more perfect and sensitive, but also a more 
enduring, form for the expression of that which 
fills his spirit with the joy and wonder of living. 
His sense of beauty and order; the response of 
something within him to certain aspects of 
nature, certain events of life; his interpretation 
of the vague and mysterious things about him 
which seem to suggest a secret meaning; his 
delight in the intensity and clearness of single 
impressions, in the symmetry and proportion 
of related objects; his desire to surpass nature, 
on the one side by the simplicity and unity of 
his work, or on the other side by the freedom 
of its range and the richness of its imagery; 
his sudden glimpses of truth; his persistent 
visions of virtue; his perception of human 
misery and his hopes of human excellence; his 
deep thoughts and solemn dreams of the Di- 
vine, — all these he strives to embody, clearly 
or vaguely, by symbol, or allusion, or imitation, 
252 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

in painting and sculpture, music and archi- 
tecture. 

The medium of these arts is physical; they 
speak to the eye and the ear. But their ulti- 
mate appeal is spiritual, and the pleasure which 
they give goes far deeper than the outward 
sense. 

In literature we have another art whose very 
medium is more than half spiritual. For words 
are not like lines, or colours, or sounds. They 
are living creatures begotten in the soul of man. 
They come to us satiuated with human mean- 
ing and association. They are vitally related 
to the emotions and thoughts out of which they 
have sprung. They have a wider range, a more 
delicate precision, a more direct and penetrat- 
ing power than any other medium of expression. 

The art of literature which weaves these 
living threads into its fabric lies closer to the 
common life and rises higher into the ideal life 
than any other art. In the lyric, the drama, 
the epic, the romance, the fable, the conte, the 
essay, the history, the biography, it not only 
speaks to the present hour, but also leaves its 
record for the future. 

Out of the common utterances of men, the 
flood of language spoken and written, by which 
they express their thoughts and feelings, — out 
253 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


of that current of journalism and oratory, 
preaching and debate, literature emerges. But 
with that current it does not pass away. Art 
consciously or unconsciously touches it with a 
magic which confers a distinct life, a longer 
endurance, a so-called immortality. It is the 
ship that floats upon the sea. It is the lotus 
that rises in beauty from the vague waters. 
It is the form given to human thoughts and 
feelings which carries them from one generation 
to another, or even, if it be perfect and per- 
durable, from century to century. 

With literature the inner life of man finds 
utterance and lasting power. The dumb, un- 
lettered races have vanished into thin air. We 
grope among their ruined cities. We collect 
their figured pottery, their rusted coins and 
weapons. And we wonder what manner of 
men they were. But the ancient Greeks and 
Hebrews and Romans still live with us. We 
know their thoughts and feelings, their loves 
and hates, their motives and ideals. They 
touch us and move us to-day through a vital 
literature. Nor should we fully understand 
their other arts, nor grasp the meaning of their 
political and social institutions without the 
light which is kindled within them by the ever- 
burning torch of letters. 

254 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


The Americans do not belong among the 
dumb races. Their spiritual descent is not 
from Etruria and Phoenicia and Carthage, nor 
from the silent red man of the western forests. 
Intellectually, through the leading races of Eu- 
rope, they inherit from Athens and Rome and 
Palestine. 

Their impulse to self-expression in the arts 
has been slower to assert itself than those other 
traits which we have been considering, — self- 
reliance, fair play, common order, the desire 
of personal development. But they have taken 
part, and they still take part (not altogether 
inaudibly), in the general conversation and 
current debate of the world. Moreover, they 
have begun to create a native literature which 
utters, to some extent at least, the thoughts 
and feelings of the soul of the people. 

This literature, considered in its ensemble as 
an expression of our country, raises some in- 
teresting questions which I should like to an- 
swer. Why has it been so slow to begin ^ Why 
is it not more recognisably American.^ What 
are the qualities in which it really expresses the 
Spirit of America ^ 

I. If you ask me why a native literatme has 
been so slow to begin in America, I answer, 
255 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


first, that it has not been slow at all. Com- 
pared with other races, the Americans have 
been rather less slow than the average in seek- 
ing self-expression in literary form and in pro- 
ducing books which have survived the genera- 
tion which produced them. 

How long was it, for example, before the 
Hebrews began to create a literature? A defi- 
nite answer to that question would bring us 
into trouble with the theologians. But at least 
we may say that from the beginning of the 
Hebrew Commonwealth to the time of the 
prophet Samuel there were three centuries and 
a half without literature. 

How long did Rome exist before its literary 
activities began? Of course we do not know 
what books may have perished. But the first 
Romans whose names have kept a place in 
literature were Nsevius and Ennius, who began 
to write more than five hundred years after 
the city was founded. 

Compared with these long periods of silence, 
the two hundred years between the settlement 
of America and the appearance of Washington 
Irving and James Fenimore Cooper seems but 
a short time. 

Even earlier than these writers I should be 
inclined to claim a place in literature for two 
256 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


Americans, — Jonathan Edwards and Benjamin 
Franklin. Indeed it is possible that the clean- 
cut philosophical essays of the iron-clad Ed- 
wards, and the intensely human autobiography 
of the shrewd and genial Franklin may continue 
to find critical admirers and readers long after 
many writers, at present more praised, have 
been forgotten. 

But if you will allow me this preliminary 
protest against the superficial notion that the 
Americans have been remarkably backward in 
producing a national literature, I will make a 
concession to current and commonplace criti- 
cism by admitting that they were not as quick 
in turning to literary self-expression as might 
have been expected. They were not a mentally 
sluggish people. They were a race of idealists. 
They were fairly well educated. Why did they not 
go to work at once, with their intense energy, 
to produce a national literature on demand ? 

One reason, perhaps, was that they had the 
good sense to perceive that a national literature 
never has been, and never can be, produced in 
this way. It is not made to order. It grows. 

Another reason, no doubt, was the fact that 
they already had more books than they had 
time to read. They were the inheritors of the 
literature of Europe. They had the classics 
257 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


and the old masters. Milton and Dryden and 
Locke wrote for them. Pope and Johnson, De- 
foe and Goldsmith, wrote for them. Cervantes 
and Le Sage wrote for them. Montesquieu and 
Rousseau wrote for them. Richardson and 
Smollett and Fielding gave them a plenty of 
long-measure novels. Above all, they found 
an overflowing supply of books of edification 
in the religious writings of Thomas Fuller, Rich- 
ard Baxter, John Bunyan, Philip Doddridge, 
Matthew Henry, and other copious Puritans. 
There was no pressing need of mental food for 
the Americans. The supply was equal to the 
demand. 

Another reason, possibly, was the fact that 
they did not have a new language, with all its 
words fresh and vivid from their origin in life, 
to develop and exploit. This was at once an 
advantage and a disadvantage. 

English was not the mother-tongue of all the 
colonists. For two or three generations there 
was a confusion of speech in the middle settle- 
ments. It is recorded of a certain young Dutch- 
woman from New Amsterdam, travelling to 
the English province of Connecticut, that she 
was in danger of being tried for witchcraft be- 
cause she spoke a diabolical tongue, evidently 
marking her as ‘‘a child of Satan.’’ 

258 


SELF-^EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

But this polyglot period passed away, and 
the people in general used 

^Hhe tongue that Shakespeare spake y * — 

used it indeed rather more literally than the 
English did, retaining old locutions like “I 
guess,” and sprinkling their talk with ‘‘Sirs,” 
and “Ma’ams,” — which have since come to be 
considered as Americanisms, whereas they are 
really Elizabethanisms. 

The possession of a language that is already 
consoUdated, organised, enriched with a vast 
vocabulary, and dignified by literary use, has 
two effects. It makes the joyful and uncon- 
scious literature of adolescence, the period of 
popular ballads and rhymed chronicles, quaint 
animal-epics and miracle-plays, impossible. It 
offers to the literature of maturity an instru- 
ment of expression equal to its needs. 

But such a language carries with it discour- 
agements as well as invitations. It sets a high 
standard of excellence. It demands courage 
and strength to use it in any but an imitative 
way. 

Do not misunderstand me here. The Amer- 
icans, since that blending of experience which 
made them one people, have never felt that 
the English language was strange or foreign to 
259 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


them. They did not adopt or borrow it. It 
was their own native tongue. They grew up 
in it. They contributed to it. It belonged to 
them. But perhaps they hesitated a little to 
use it freely and fearlessly and originally while 
they were still in a position of tutelage and 
dependence. Perhaps they waited for the con- 
sciousness that they were indeed grown up, — 
a consciousness which did not fully come until 
after the War of 1812. Perhaps they needed 
to feel the richness of their own experience, the 
vigour of their own inward life, before they 
could enter upon the literary use of that most 
rich and vigorous of modern languages. 

Another reason why American literature did 
not develop sooner was the absorption of the 
energy of the people in other tasks than writing. 
They had to chop down trees, to build houses, 
to plough prairies. It is one thing to explore 
the wilderness, as Chateaubriand did, an elegant 
visitor looking for the materials of romance. It 
is another thing to live in the wilderness and 
fight with it for a living. Real pioneers are 
often poets at heart. But they seldom write 
their poetry. 

After the Americans had won their security 
and their daily bread in the wild country, they 
had still to make a State, to develop a social 
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SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


order, to provide themselves with schools and 
churches, to do all kinds of things which de- 
mand time, and toil, and the sweat of the brow. 
It was a busy world. There was more work 
to be done than there were workmen to do it. 
Industry claimed every talent almost as soon 
as it got into breeches. 

A Franklin, who might have written essays 
or philosophical treatises in the manner of 
Diderot, must run a printing-press, invent 
stoves, pave streets, conduct a postal service, 
raise money for the War of Independence. A 
Freneau, who might have written lyrics in the 
manner of Andre Chenier, must become a sol- 
dier, a sea-captain, an editor, a farmer. 

Even those talents which were drawn to the 
intellectual side of life were absorbed in the 
eflForts which belong to the current discussions 
of affairs, the daily debate of the world, rather 
than to literature. The Americans disputed, 
they argued, they exhorted, with a direct aim 
at practical results in morals and conduct. 
They became preachers, orators, politicians, 
pamphleteers. They wrote a good deal; but 
their writing has the effect of reported speech 
addressed to an audience. The mass of ser- 
mons, and political papers, and long letters on 
timely topics, which America produced in her 
261 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


first two hundred years is considerable. It con- 
tains much more vitality than the imitative 
essays, poems, and romances of the same period. 

John Dickinson’s ‘‘Letters from a Pennsyl- 
vania Farmer,” the sermons of President With- 
erspoon of Princeton, the papers of Madison, 
Hamilton, and Jay in the Federalist, are not 
bad reading, even to-day. They are virile and 
significant. They show that the Americans 
knew how to use the English language in its 
eighteenth-century form. But these writings 
were produced to serve a practical purpose. 
Therefore they lack the final touch of that 
art whose primary aim is the pleasure of self- 
expression in forms as permanent and as per- 
fect as may be found. 

II. The second question which I shall try 
to answer is this: Why is not the literature of 
America, not only in the beginning but also in 
its later development, more distinctly Amer- 
ican? 

The answer is simple: It is distinctly Amer- 
ican. But unfortunately the critics who are 
calling so persistently and looking so eagerly 
for “Americanism” in literature, do not recog- 
nise it when they see it. 

They are looking for something strange, ec- 
262 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


centric, radical, and rude. When a real Amer- 
ican like Franklin, or Irving, or Emerson, or 
Longfellow, or Lanier, or Howells appears, 
these critics will not believe that he is the 
genuine article. They expect something in 
the style of ‘‘Buffalo Bill.” They imagine 
the Spirit of America always in a red shirt, 
striped trousers, and cowhide boots. 

They recognise the Americanism of Wash- 
ington when he crosses the forest to Fort Du- 
quesne in his leather blouse and leggings. But 
when he appears at Mount Vernon in black 
velvet and lace rufl3es, they say, “This is no 
American after all, but a transplanted English 
squire.” They acknowledge that Francis Park- 
man is an American when he follows the Oregon 
trail on horseback in hunter’s dress. But when 
he sits in the tranquil library of his West Rox- 
bury home surrounded by its rose gardens, they 
say, “This is no American, but a gentleman of 
Europe in exile.” 

How often must our critics be reminded that 
the makers of America were not redskins nor 
amiable ruffians, but rather decent folk, with 
perhaps an extravagant admiration for order 
and respectability.^ When will they learn that 
the descendants of these people, when they 
come to write books, cannot be expected to 
263 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


show the qualities of barbarians and iconoclasts ? 
How shall we persuade them to look at Amer- 
ican literature not for the by-product of ec- 
centricity, but for the self-expression of a sane 
and civilized people? I doubt whether it will 
ever be possible to effect this conversion and 
enlightenment; for nothing is so strictly closed 
against criticism as the average critic’s adher- 
ence to the point of view imposed by his own 
limitations. But it is a pity, in this case, that 
the point of view is not within sight of the facts. 

There is a story that the English poet Tenny- 
son once said that he was glad that he had never 
met Longfellow, because he would not have 
liked to see the American poet put his feet upon 
the table. If the story is true, it is comic. 
Nothing could be more unlike the super-refined 
Longfellow than to put his feet in the wrong 
place, either on the table, or in his verse. Yet 
he was an American of the Americans, the 
most popular poet of his country. 

It seems to me that the literature of America 
would be more recognisable if those who con- 
sider it from the outside knew more of the real 
spirit of the country. If they were not always 
looking for volcanoes and earthquakes, they 
might learn to identify the actual features of 
the landscape. 


264 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


But when I have said this, honesty compels 
me to go a little further and admit that the 
full, complete life of America still lacks an 
adequate expression in literature. Perhaps that 
life is too large and variegated in its outward 
forms, too simple in its individual types, and 
too complex in their combination, ever to find 
this perfect expression. Certainly we are still 
waiting for ‘"the great American Novel.’’ 

It may be that we shall have to wait a long 
time for this comprehensive and significant 
book which will compress into a single cup of 
fiction all the different qualities of the Spirit 
of America, all the fermenting elements that 
mingle in the vintage of the New World. But 
in this hope deferred, — if indeed it be a hope 
that can be reasonably entertained at all, — ^we 
are in no worse estate than the other complex 
modem nations. What English novel gives a 
perfect picture of all England in the nineteenth 
century.^ Which of the French romances of 
the last twenty years expresses the whole spirit 
of France ? 

Meantime it is not difficult to find certain 
partial and local reflections of the inner and 
outer life of the real America in the literature, 
limited in amount though it be, which has al- 
ready been produced in that country. In some 
265 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


of it the local quality of thought or language 
is so predominant as to act almost as a barrier 
to exportation. But there is a smaller quantity 
which may fairly be called ‘"good anywhere”; 
and to us it is, and ought to be, doubly good 
because of its Americanism. 

Thus, for example, any reader who under- 
stands the tone and character of life in the Mid- 
dle States, around New York and Philadelphia, 
in the first quarter of the nineteenth century, 
feels that the ideas and feelings of the more 
intelligent people, those who were capable of 
using or of appreciating literary forms, are well 
enough represented in the writings of the so- 
called “Knickerbocker School.” 

Washington Irving, the genial humomist, the 
delicate and sympathetic essayist and story- 
teller of The Sketch-Boolcy was the first veritable 
“man of letters” in America. Cooper, the 
copious teller-of-tales in the open air, the lover 
of brave adventure in the forest and on the sea, 
the Scott of the backwoodsman, and the ideal- 
ist of the “noble savage,” was the discoverer of 
real romance in the New World. 

Including other writers of slighter and less 
spontaneous talent, like Halleck, Drake, and 
Paulding, this school was marked by a cheerful 
and optimistic view of life, a tone of feeling 
more sentimental than impassioned, a friendly 
266 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

interest in humanity rather than an intense 
moral enthusiasm, and a flowing, easy style, — 
the manner of a company of people living in 
comfort and good order, people of social habits, 
good digestion, and settled opinions, who sought 
in literature more of entertainment and relaxa- 
tion than of inspiration or what the strenuous 
reformers call ‘‘uplift.”* 

After the days when its fashionable idol was 
Willis, and its honoured though slightly cold 
poet was Bryant, and its neglected and embit- 
tered genius was Edgar Allan Poe, this school, 
lacking the elements of inward coherence, 
passed into a period of decline. It revived 
again in such writers as George William Curtis, 
Donald Mitchell, Bayard Taylor, Charles Dud- 
ley Warner, Frank Stockton; anddt continues 
some of its qualities in the present-day writers 
whose centre is undoubtedly New York. 

Is it imaginary, or can I really feel some 
traces, here and there, of the same influences 
which affected the “Knickerbocker School” in 
such different writers as Mark Twain and Wil- 
liam Dean Howells, in spite of their western 
origin? Certainly it can be felt in essayists 
like Hamilton Mabie and Edward S. Martin 
and Brander Matthews, in novelists like Weir 

*From this point on I beg the reader to remember the chapter was 
written in 1909. 


267 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Mitchell and Hopkinson Smith, in poets like 
Aldrich and Stedman, and even in the later 
work of a native lyrist like Richard Watson 
Gilder. There is something, — I know not what, 
— a kind of urhanum genus dicendi^ which speaks 
of the great city in the background and of a 
tradition continued. Even in the work of such 
a cosmopolitan and relentless novelist as Mrs. 
Wharton, or of such an independent and search- 
ing critic as William C. Brownell, my mental 
palate catches a flavour of America and a remi- 
niscence of New York; though now indeed there 
is little or nothing left of the Knickerbocker 
optimism and cheerful sentimentality. 

The American school of historians, including 
such writers as Ticknor, Prescott, Bancroft, 
Motley, and Parkman, represents the growing 
interest of the people of the New World in the 
history of the Old, as well as their desire to 
know more about their own origin and develop- 
ment. Motley’s Rise of the Dutch Republic ^ 
Parkman’s volumes on the French settlements 
in Canada, Sloane’s Life of Napoleon^ and Henry 
C. Lea’s History of the Inquisition are not only 
distinguished works of scholarship, but also 
eminently readable and interesting expressions 
of the mind of a great republic considering im- 
portant events and institutions in other coun- 
268 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


tries to which its own history was closely 
related. The serious and laborious efforts of 
Bancroft to produce a clear and complete His- 
tory of the United States resulted in a work of 
dignity and value. But much was left for others 
to do in the way of exploring the sources of the 
nation, and in closer study of its critical epochs. 
This task has been well continued by such his- 
torians as John Fiske, Henry Adams, James 
Bach McMaster, John Codman Ropes, James 
Ford Rhodes, Justin Winsor, and Sydney 
Fisher. 

These are only some of the principal names 
which may be cited to show that few countries 
have better reason than the United States to 
be proud of a school of historians whose works 
are not only well documented, but also well 
written, and so entitled to be counted as litera- 
ture. 

The Southern States, before the Civil War 
and for a little time after, were not largely rep- 
resented in American letters. In prose they 
had a fluent romancer, Simms, who wrote some- 
what in the manner of Cooper, but with less 
skill and force; an exquisite artist of the short 
story and the lyric, Poe, who, although he was 
born in Boston and did most of his work in 
Philadelphia and New York, may perhaps be 
269 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


counted sympathetically with the South; two 
agreeable story-tellers, John Esten Cooke and 
John P. Kennedy; two delicate and charming 
lyrists, Paul Hayne and Henry Timrod; and 
one gifted poet, Sidney Lanier, whose career 
was cut short by a premature death. 

But the distinctive spirit of the South did 
not really find an adequate utterance in early 
American literature, and it is only of late years 
that it is beginning to do so. The fine and 
memorable stories of George Cable reflect the 
poesy and romance of the creole life in Loui- 
siana. James Lane Allen and Thomas Nelson 
Page express in their prose the Southern at- 
mosphere and temperament. The poems of 
Madison Cawein are full of the bloom and fra- 
grance of Kentucky. Among the women who 
write, Alice Hegan Rice, “ Charles Egbert Crad- 
dock,” Ruth McEnery Stuart, ‘‘George Madden 
Martin,” and Mary Johnston may be named 
as charming story-tellers of the South. Joel 
Chandler Harris has made the old negro folk- 
tales classic, in his Uncle RemuSy — a work which 
belongs, if I mistake not, to one of the endur- 
ing types of literature. 

But beyond a doubt the richest and finest 
flowering of belles lettres in the United States 
during the nineteenth century was that which 
270 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

has been called “the Renaissance of New Eng- 
land.” The quickening of moral and intellec- 
tual life which followed the Unitarian move- 
ment in theology, the antislavery agitation in 
society, and the transcendental fermentation in 
philosophy may not have caused, but it cer- 
tainly influenced, the development of a group of 
writers, just before the middle of the century, 
who brought a deeper and fuller note into Amer- 
ican poetry and prose. 

Hawthorne, profound and lonely genius, 
dramatist of the inner life, master of the sym- 
bolic story, endowed with the double gift of 
deep insight and exquisite art; Emerson, herald 
of self-reliance and poet of the intuitions, whose 
prose and verse flash with gem-like thoughts 
and fancies, and whose calm, vigorous accents 
were potent to awaken and sustain the intellec- 
tual independence of America; Longfellow, the 
sweetest voice of American song, the household 
poet of the New World; Whittier, the Quaker 
bard, whose ballads and lyrics reflect so per- 
fectly the scenery and the sentiment of New 
England; Holmes, genial and pungent wit, 
native humourist, with a deep spring of sym- 
pathy and a clear vein of poetry in his many- 
sided personality; Lowell, generous poet of 
high and noble emotions, inimitable writer of 
271 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


dialect verse, penetrating critic and essayist, — 
these six authors form a group not yet equalled 
in the literary history of America. 

The factors of strength, and the hidden ele- 
ments of beauty, in the Puritan character came 
to flower and fruit in these men. They were 
liberated, enlarged, quickened by the strange 
flood of poetry, philosophy, and romantic senti- 
ment which flowed into the somewhat narrow 
and sombre circle of Yankee thought and life. 
They found around them a circle of eager and 
admiring readers who had felt the same in- 
fluences. The circle grew wider and wider as 
the charm and power of these writers made 
itself felt, and as their ideas were diffused. 
Their work, always keeping a distinct New Eng- 
land colour, had in it a substance of thought 
and feeling, an excellence of form and texture, 
which gave it a much broader appeal. Their 
fame passed from the sectional to the national 
stage. In their day Boston was the literary 
centre of the United States. And in after days, 
though the sceptre has passed, the influence 
of these men may be traced in almost all Amer- 
ican writers, of the East, the West, or the South, 
in every fleld of literature, except perhaps the 
region of realistic or romantic fiction. 

Here it seems as if the West had taken the 
272 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


lead. Bret Harte, with his frontier stories, 
always vivid though not always accurate, was 
the founder of a new school, or at least the 
discoverer of a new mine of material, in which 
Frank Norris followed with some powerful 
work, too soon cut short by death, and where 
a number of living men like Owen Wister, 
Stewart Edward White, and O. Henry are find- 
ing graphic stories to tell. Hamlin Garland, 
Booth Tarkington, Wiliam Allen White, and 
Robert Herrick are vigorous romancers of the 
Middle West. Winston Churchill studies poli- 
tics and people in various American periods 
and regions; Robert Chambers, having left his 
original romantic field, explores the social com- 
plications of New York; both count their read- 
ers by the hundred thousand. 

In the short story Miss Jewett, Miss Wilkins, 
and Mrs. Deland have developed characteristic 
and charming forms of a difficult art. In poetry 
George E. Woodberry and William Vaughn 
Moody have continued the tradition of Emer- 
son and Lowell in lofty and pregnant verse. 
Joaquin Miller has sung the songs of the Sierras, 
and Edwin Markham the chant of labour. 
James Whitcomb Riley has put the very heart 
of the Middle West into his familiar poems, 
humorous and pathetic. 

273 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


And Walt Whitman, the ‘‘democratic bard,” 
the poet who broke all the poetic traditions? 
Is it too soon to determine whether his revolu- 
tion in literature was a success, whether he was 
a great initiator or only a great exception ? Per- 
haps so. But it is not too soon to recognise 
the beauty of feeling and form, and the strong 
Americanism, of his poems on the death of 
Lincoln, and the power of some of his descrip- 
tive lines, whether they are verse or rhapsodic 
prose. 

It is evident that such a list of names as I 
have been trying to give must necessarily be 
very imperfect. Many names of substantial 
value are omitted. The field is not completely 
covered. But at least it may serve to indicate 
some of the different schools and sources, and 
to give some idea of the large literary activity 
in which various elements and aspects of the 
Spirit of America have found and are finding 
expression. 

III. The real value of literature is to be 
sought in its power to express and to impress. 
What relation does it bear to the interpretation 
of nature and life in a certain country at a cer- 
tain time ? That is the question in its historical 
form. How clearly, how beautifully, how per- 
274 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

fectly, does it give that interpretation in con- 
crete works of art? That is the question in 
its aesthetic form. What personal qualities, 
what traits of human temperament and dis- 
position does it reveal most characteristically 
in the spirit of the land ? That is the question 
in the form which belongs to the study of human 
nature. 

It is in this last form that I wish to put the 
question, just now, in order to follow logically 
the line marked by the general title of these 
lectures. The Spirit of America is to be under- 
stood not only by the five elements of char- 
acter which I have tried to sketch in outline, 
— the instinct of self-reliance, the love of fair 
play, the energetic will, the desire of order, 
the ambition of self-development. It has also 
certain temperamental traits; less easy to de- 
fine, perhaps; certainly less clearly shown in 
national and social institutions, but not less 
important to an intimate acquaintance with 
the people. 

These temperamental traits are the very 
things which are most distinctive in literature. 
They give it colour and flavour. They are the 
things which touch it with personality. In 
American literature, if you look at it broadly, 
I think you will find four of these traits most 
clearly revealed, — a religious instinct, a love of 
£75 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


nature, a sense of humour, and a sentiment of 
humanity. 

(1) It may seem strange to say that a coun- 
try which does not even name the Supreme 
Being in its Constitution, which has no estab- 
lished form of worship or belief, and whose 
public schools and universities are expressly 
disconnected from any kind of ecclesiastical 
control, is at the same time strongly religious 
in its temperament. Yet strange as this seems, 
it is true of America. 

The entire independence of Church and State 
was the result of a deliberate conviction, in 
which the interest of religion was probably the 
chief consideration. In the life of the people 
the Church has been not less, but more, potent 
than in most other countries. Professor Wen- 
dell was perfectly right in the lectures which 
he delivered in Paris four years ago, when he 
laid so much emphasis upon the influence of 
religion in determining the course of thought 
and the character of literature in America. 
Professor Munsterberg is thoroughly correct 
when he says in The Americans, ‘‘The entire 
American people are in fact profoundly relig- 
ious, and have been, from the day when the 
Pilgrim Fathers landed, down to the present 
moment.” 

The proof of this is not to be seen merely in 
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SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


outward observance, though I suppose there is 
hardly any other country, except Scotland, in 
which there is more church-going. Sabbath- 
keeping, and Bible-reading. It is estimated 
that less than fifteen of the eighty millions of the 
total population are entirely out of touch with 
any church. But all this might be rather super- 
ficial, formal, conventional. It might be only 
a hypocritical cover for practical infidelity. 
And sometimes when one reads the ‘‘yellow 
journals,” with their fiaming exposures of social 
immorality, industrial dishonesty, and political 
corruption, one is tempted to think that it may 
be so. 

Yet a broader, deeper, saner view, — a steady 
look into the real life of the typical American 
home, the normal American community, — re- 
veals the fact that the black spots are on the 
surface and not in the heart of the country. 

The heart of the people at large is still old- 
fashioned in its adherence to the idea that every 
man is responsible to a higher moral and spir- 
itual power, — that duty is more than pleasure, 
— that life cannot be translated in terms of 
the five senses, and that the attempt to do so 
lowers and degrades the man who makes it, — 
that religion alone can give an adequate inter- 
pretation of life, and that morality alone can 
277 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

make it worthy of respect and admiration. 
This is the characteristic American way of look- 
ing at the complicated and interesting business 
of living which we men and women have upon 
our hands. 

It is rather a sober and intense view. It is 
not always free from prejudice, from bigotry, 
from fanaticism, from superstition. It is open 
to invasion by strange and uncouth forms of 
religiosity. America has offered a fertile soil 
for the culture of new and queer religions. But 
on the whole, — ^yes, in immensely the larger 
proportion, — the old religion prevails, and a 
rather simple and primitive type of Christian- 
ity keeps its hold upon the hearts and minds 
of the majority. The consequence of this is 
(to quote again from Professor Miinsterberg, 
lest you should think me a prejudiced reporter), 
that ‘‘however many sins there are, the life of 
the people is intrinsically pure, moral, and de- 
vout.” “The number of those who live above 
the general level of moral requirement is as- 
tonishingly large.” 

Now this habit of soul, this tone of life, is 
reflected in American literature. Whatever 
defects it may have, a lack of serious feeling 
and purpose is not among them. It is per- 
vaded, generally, by the spiritual preconcep- 
278 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


tion. It approaches life from the point of view 
of responsibility. It gives full value to those 
instincts, desires, and hopes in man which have 
to do with the unseen world. 

Even in those writers who are moved by a 
sense of revolt against the darkness and sever- 
ity of certain theological creeds, the attempt is 
not to escape from religion, but to find a clearer, 
nobler, and more loving expression of religion. 
Even in those works which deal with subjects 
which are non-religious in their specific quality, 
— stories of adventure, like Cooper’s novels; 
poems of romance, like the ballads of Long- 
fellow and Whittier, — one feels the implication 
of a spiritual background, a moral law, a Divine 
providence, — 

^^Standeth God within the shadow ^ keeping watch 
above his own^ 

This, hitherto, has been the characteristic 
note of the literature of America. It has taken 
for granted that there is a God, that men must 
answer to Him for their actions, and that one 
of the most interesting things about people, 
even in books, is their moral quality. 

(2) Another trait which seems to me strongly 
marked in the American temperament and 
clearly reflected in American literature is the 
279 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


love of nature. The attractions of the big out- 
of-doors have taken hold upon the people. 
They feel a strong affection for their great, free, 
untended forests, their swift-rushing rivers, 
their bright, friendly brooks, their wooded 
mountain ranges of the East, their snowy peaks 
and vast plains and many-coloured canyons of 
the West. 

I suppose there is no other country in the 
world where so many people break away from 
the fatigues of civilization every year, and go 
out to live in the open for a vacation with na- 
ture. The business of making tents and camp 
outfits for these voluntary gypsies has grown 
to be enormous. In California they do not 
even ask for a tent. They sleep a la belle etoile. 

The Audubon societies have spread to every 
State. You will not find anywhere in Europe, 
except perhaps in Switzerland, such companies 
of boys and girls studying the wild flowers and 
the birds. The interest is not altogether, nor 
mainly, scientific. It is vital and tempera- 
mental. It is the expression of an inborn sym- 
pathy with nature and a real delight in her 
works. 

This has found an utterance in the large and 
growing ‘‘nature-literature” of America. John 
James Audubon, Henry Thoreau, John Bur- 
280 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


roughs, Clarence King, John Muir, Ernest 
Seton, Frank Chapman, Ernest Ingersoll, — 
these are some of the men who have not only 
carefully described, but also lovingly inter- 
preted, ‘‘nature in her visible forms,” and so 
have given to their books, beyond the value 
of accurate records of observation, the charm 
of sympathetic and illuminative writing. 

But it is not only in these special books that 
I would look for evidence of the love of nature 
in the American temperament. It is found all 
through the poetry and the prose of the best 
writers. The most perfect bit of writing in the 
works of that stem Calvinist, Jonathan Ed- 
wards, is the description of an early morning 
walk through a field of wild fiowers. Some of 
the best pages of Irving and Cooper are sketches 
of landscape along the Hudson River. The 
scenery of New England is drawn with infinite 
delicacy and skill in the poetry of Bryant, Whit- 
tier, and Emerson. Bret Harte and Joaquin 
Miller make us see the desert and the rugged 
Sierras. James Lane Allen shows us the hemp 
fields of Kentucky, George Cable the bayous 
of Louisiana. But the list of illustrations is 
endless. The whole literature of America is 
filled with pictures of nature. There is hardly 
a familiar bird or fiower for which some poet 
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THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


has not tried to find a distinct, personal, signif- 
icant expression in his verse. 

(3) A third trait of the American tempera- 
ment is the sense of humour. This is famous, 
not to say notorious. The Americans are sup- 
posed to be a nation of jokers, whose daily jests, 
like their ready-made shoes, have a peculiar 
oblique form which makes it slightly diflScult 
for people of other nationalities to get into them. 

There may be some truth in the latter part 
of this supposition, for I have frequently ob- 
served that a remark which seemed to me very 
amusing only puzzled a foreigner. For example, 
a few years ago, when Mark Twain was in Eu- 
rope, a despatch appeared in some of the Amer- 
ican newspapers giving an account of his sudden 
death. Knowing that this would trouble his 
friends, and being quite well, he sent a cable- 
gram in these words, ‘‘Report of my death 
grossly exaggerated, Mark Twain.” When I 
repeated this to an Englishman, he looked at 
me pityingly and said: “But how could you 
exaggerate a thing like that, my dear fellow 
Either he was dead, or he was alive, don’t you 
know?” This was perfectly incontestable, and 
the statement of it represented the English 
point of view. 

But to the American incontestable things 
282 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


often have a double aspect: first that of the 
solemn fact; and then that of the curious, un- 
real, pretentious shape in which it is dressed by 
fashion, or vanity, or stupid respectability. In 
this region of incongruities created by the con- 
trast between things as they really are and the 
way in which dull or self-important people 
usually talk about them, American humour 
plays. 

It is not irreverent toward the realities. But 
for the conventionalities, the absurdities, the 
pomposities of life, it has a habit of friendly 
satire and good-tempered raillery. It is not 
like the French wit, brilliant and pointed. It 
is not like the English fun, in which practical 
joking plays so large a part. It is not like the 
German joke, which announces its arrival with 
the sound of a trumpet. It usually wears rather 
a sober face and speaks with a quiet voice. It 
delights in exposing pretensions by gravely 
carrying them to the point of wild extravagance. 
It finds its material in subjects which are laugh- 
able, but not odious; and in people who are 
ridiculous, but not hateful. 

Its favourite method is to exaggerate the 
foibles of persons who are excessive in certain 
directions, or to make a statement absurd sim- 
ply by taking it literally. Thus a Yankee 
283 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


humourist said of a certain old lady that she 
was so inquisitive that she put her head out 
of all the front windows of the house at the 
same time. A Westerner claimed the prize of 
inventiveness for his town on the ground that 
one of its citizens had taught his ducks to swim 
on hot water in order that they might lay boiled 
eggs. Mr. Dooley described the book in which 
President Roosevelt gave his personal reminis- 
cences of the Spanish-American War under the 
title Alone in Cubea.^^ 

Once, when I was hunting in the Bad Lands 
of North Dakota, and had lost my way, I met 
a solitary horseman in the desert and said to 
him, ‘T want to go to the Cannonball River.” 
‘‘Well, stranger,” he answered, looking at me 
with a solemn air of friendly interest, ‘T guess 
ye can go if ye want to; there ain’t no string 
on ye.” But when I laughed and said what 
I really wanted was that he should show me 
the way, he replied, “Why didn’t ye say so.^” 
and rode with me until we struck the trail to 
camp. 

All this is typical of native American humour, 
quaint, good-natured, sober-faced, and extrava- 
gant. At bottom it is based upon the demo- 
cratic assumption that the artificial distinctions 
and conventional phrases of life are in them- 
284 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


selves amusing. It flavours the talk of the 
street and the dinner-table. It makes the Amer- 
icans inclined to prefer farce to melodrama, 
comedietta to grand opera. In its extreme and 
degenerate form it drifts into habitual buf- 
foonery, like the crude, continuous jests of the 
comic supplements to the Sunday newspapers. 
In its better shape it relieves the strenuousness 
and the monotony of life by a free and kindly 
touch upon its incongruities, just as a traveller 
on a serious errand makes the time pass by 
laughing at his own mishaps and at the queer 
people whom he meets by the way. 

You will find it in literature in all forms: in 
books of the professional humourists from Ar- 
temus Ward to Mr. Dooley: in books of genre 
painting, like Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn 
and Pudd^nhead Wilson^ or like David Harum, 
which owed its immense popularity to the life- 
like portrait of an old horse trader in a rural 
town of central New York: in books of sober 
purpose, like the essays of Lowell or Emerson, 
where a sudden smile flashes out at you from 
the gravest page. Oliver Wendell Holmes shows 
it to you, in The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table^ 
dressed in the proper garb of Boston; you may 
recognise it on horseback among the cowboys, 
in the stories of Owen Wister and O. Henry; 

2S5 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


it talks the Mississippi River dialect in the 
admirable pages of Charles D. Stewart’s Part- 
Tiers with Praoidencey and speaks with the local 
accent of Louisville, Kentucky, in Mrs. Wiggs 
of the Cabbage Patch. Almost everywhere you 
will find the same general tone, a compound 
of mock gravity, exaggeration, good nature, 
and inward laughter. 

You may catch the spirit of it all in a letter 
that Benjamin Franklin sent to a London news- 
paper in 1765. He was having a little fun with 
English editors who had been printing wild 
articles about America. ‘‘All this,” wrote he, 
“is as certainly true as the account, said to 
be from Quebec, in all the papers of last week, 
that the inhabitants of Canada are making 
preparations for a cod and whale fishery this 
summer in the upper Lakes. Ignorant people 
may object that the upper Lakes are fresh, and 
that cod and whales are salt-water fish; but 
let them know. Sir, that cod, like other fish, 
when attacked by their enemies, fly into any 
water where they can be safest; that whales, 
when they have a mind to eat cod, pursue them 
wherever they fly; and that the grand leap of 
the whale in the chase up the Falls of Niagara 
is esteemed, by those who have seen it, as one 
of the finest spectacles in Nature.” 

286 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

(4) The last trait of the American tempera- 
ment on which I wish to touch briefly is the 
sentiment of humanity. 

It is not an unkind country, this big republic, 
where the manners are so ‘‘free and easy,” the 
tempo of life so quick, the pressure of business 
so heavy and continuous. The feeling of phi- 
lanthropy in its broader sense, — the impulse 
which makes men inclined to help one another, 
to sympathise with the unfortunate, to lift a 
neighbour or a stranger out of a tight place, — 
good will, in short, — is in the blood of the 
people. 

When their blood is heated, they are hard 
hitters, fierce fighters. But give them time to 
cool down, and they are generous peacemakers. 
Abraham Lincoln’s phrase, “With malice toward 
none, with charity for all,” strikes the key-note. 
In the “mild concerns of ordinary life” they 
like to cultivate friendly relations, to show 
neighbourliness, to do the useful thing. 

There is a curious word of approbation in 
the rural dialect of Pennsylvania. When the 
country folk wish to express their liking for a 
man, they say, “He is a very common person,” 
— ^meaning not that he is low or vulgar, but 
approachable, sympathetic, kind to all. 

Underneath the surface of American life, 
287 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


often rough and careless, there lives this wide- 
spread feeling: that human nature everywhere 
is made of the same stuff; that life’s joys and 
sorrows are felt in the same way whether they 
are hidden under homespun and calico or under 
silk and broadcloth; that it is every man’s 
duty to do good and not evil to those who live 
in the world with him. 

In literature this feeling has shown itself in 
many ways. It has given a general tone of 
sympathy with ^‘the under dog in a fight.” 
It has led writers to look for subjects among 
the plain people. It has made the novel of 
American ‘‘high life” incline generally to satire 
or direct rebuke. In the typical American 
romance the hero is seldom rich (at least in 
the beginning), the villain seldom poor (except 
at the end of the story). 

In the weaker writers the humane sentiment 
dwindles into sentimentahty. In the stronger 
writers it gives, sometimes, a very noble and 
manly note. In general you may say that it 
has impressed upon American literature the 
mark of a moral purpose, — the wish to elevate, 
to purify, to fortify the mind, and so the life, 
of those who read. 

Is this a merit or a fault in literature ? Judge 
for yourselves. 


288 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 

No doubt a supremely ethical intention is 
an insufficient outfit for an author. His work 
may be 

Chaste as the icicle 

Thafs curded by the frost from purest snow 

And hangs on Dianas temple, 

and yet it may be without savour or perma- 
nence. Often the desire to teach a good lesson 
bends a book from the straight line of truth-to- 
the-facts, and makes a so-called virtuous ending 
at the price of sincerity and thoroughgoing hon- 
esty. 

It is not profitable to real virtue to dwell in 
a world of fiction where miracles are worked 
to crown the good and proper folk with un- 
varying felicity and to send all the rascals to 
prison or a miserable grave. Nor is it a wise 
and useful thing for literature to ignore the 
lower side of life for the sake of commending 
the higher; to speak a false and timid language 
for fear of shocking the sensitive; to evade 
the actual problems and conflicts which men 
and women of flesh and blood have to meet, 
for the sake of creating a perfectly respectable 
atmosphere for the imagination to live in. 

This mistaking of prudery for decency, this 
unwillingness to deal quite frankly with life as 
289 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


it is, has perhaps acted with a narrowing and 
weakening eflFect upon the course of American 
literature in the past. But just now there seems 
to be a reaction toward the other extreme. 
Among some English and American writers, 
especially of the female sex, there is a new 
fashion of indiscriminate candour which would 
make Balzac blush. But I suppose that this 
will pass, since every extreme carries within 
itself the seed of disintegration. 

The rriorale of literature, after all, does not 
lie outside of the great circle of ethics. It is 
a simple application of the laws which embrace 
the whole of human life to the specific business 
of a writer. 

To speak the truth as he sees it through his 
senses and his imagination; to respect himself 
and his readers; to do justly and to love mercy; 
to deal with language as a living thing of secret 
and incalculable power; not to call good, evil, 
or evil, good; to honour the noble and to con- 
demn the base; to face the facts of life with 
courage, the humours of life with sympathy, 
the mysteries of life with reverence; and to per- 
form his task of writing as carefully, as sin- 
cerely, as well as he can, — this, it seems to me, 
is the whole duty of an author. 

This, if I mistake not, has been the effort 
290 


SELF-EXPRESSION AND LITERATURE 


of tlie chief writers of America. They have 
spoken surely to the heart of a great people. 
They have kept the ideals of the past alive in 
the conflicts of the present. They have hght- 
ened the labours of a weary day. They have 
left their readers a little happier, perhaps a 
little wiser, certainly a little stronger and braver, 
for the battle and the work of life. 

The measure of their contribution to the 
small group of world-books, the literature that 
is universal in meaning and enduring in form, 
must be left for the future to determine. But 
it is certain that American literature has al- 
ready done much to express and to perpetuate 
the Spirit of America. 


291 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 












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To My Brother 
PAUL VAN DYKE, D.D. 

PROFESSOR OF HISTORY AT PRINCETON 
SECRETARY OF THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY UNION 

PARIS, 1917-1919 


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FOREWORD 

This brief series of chapters is not a tale 

“0/ moving accidents hy flood andfleld.^^ 

Some dangers I have passed through during 
the last three years, but nothing to speak of. 

Nor is it a romance in the style of those 
thrilling novels of secret diplomacy which I 
peruse with wonder and delight in hours of 
relaxation, chiefly because they move about in 
worlds regarding which I have no experience. 

There is nothing secret or mysterious about 
the American diplomatic service, so far as I 
have known it. Of course there are times when, 
like every other honestly and properly con- 
ducted affair, it does not seek publicity in the 
newspapers. That, I should suppose, must al- 
ways be a fundamental condition of frank and 
free conversation between governments as be- 
tween gentlemen. There is a certain kind of 
reserve which is essential to candour. 

But American diplomacy has no picturesque 
meetings at midnight in the gloom of lonely 
forests; no confabulations in black cellars with 
bands of hireling desperadoes waiting to carry 

m 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


out Its decrees; no disguises, no masks, no dark 
lanterns — nothing half so exciting and melo- 
dramatic. On the contrary, it is amazingly 
plain and straightforward, with plenty of hard 
work, but always open and aboveboard. That 
is the rule for the diplomatic service of the 
United States. 

Its chief and constant aims are known to 
all men. First, to maintain American prin- 
ciples and interests, and to get a fair showing 
for them in the world. Second, to preserve 
and advance friendly relations and intercourse 
with the particular nation to which the diplomat 
is sent. Third, to promote a just and firm and 
free peace throughout the world, so that democ- 
racy everywhere may live without fear. 

It was the last of these three aims that acted 
as the main motive in my acceptance of Presi- 
dent Wilson’s invitation to go out as American 
Minister to the Netherlands and Luxembourg 
in the summer of 1913. The chief thing that 
drew me to Holland was the desire to promote 
the great work of peace which had been begun 
by the International Peace Conferences at The 
Hague. This indeed was what the President 
especially charged me to do. 

Two conferences had already been held and 
had accomplished much. But their work was 
298 


FOREWORD 


incomplete. It lacked firm attachments and 
sanctions. It was left to a certain extent ‘‘hang- 
ing in the air.” It needed just those things 
which the American delegates to the Confer- 
ence of 1907 had advocated — the establishment 
of a Permanent Court of Justice; an Inter-- 
national Prize Court; an agreement for the 
protection of private property at sea in time 
of war; the further study and discussion of 
the question of the reduction of armaments by 
the nations; and so on. Most of these were 
the things of which Germany had hitherto pre- 
vented the attainment. A third Peace Con- 
ference was necessary to secure and carry on 
the work of the first two. The President told 
me to do all that I properly could to forward 
the assembling of that conference at the earliest 
possible date. 

So I went to Holland as an envoy of the 
world-peace founded on justice which is Amer- 
ica’s great desire. For that cause I worked 
and strove. Of that cause I am still a devoted 
follower and servant. I am working for it now, 
but with a difference. It is evident that we 
cannot maintain that cause, as the world stands 
to-day, without fighting for it. And after it is 
won, it will need protection. It must be a 
righteous Peace with Power. 

299 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


The following chapters narrate some of the 
experiences — things seen and heard and studied 
during my years of service abroad — which have 
forced me to this conclusion. To the articles 
for Scribner's Magazine^ I have added two short 
chapters on the cause of the war and the kind 
of peace America is fighting for. 

Avalon, October 16, 1917. 


300 


I 

FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 
I 

TT takes a New England farmer to note and 
interpret the signs of coming storm on a 
beautiful and sunny day. Perhaps his power 
is due in part to natural sharpness, and in part 
to the innate pessimism of the Yankee mind, 
which considers the fact that the hay is cut 
but not yet in the barn a suflBcient reason for 
believing that ‘‘it’ll prob’ly rain t’morrow.” 

I must confess that I had not enough of either 
of these qualities to be observant and fearful 
of the presages of the oncoming tempest which 
lurked in the beautiful autumn and winter of 
1913-14 in Europe. Looking back at them 
now, I can see that the signs were ominous. 
But anybody can be wise after the event, and 
the role of a reminiscent prophet is too easy 
to be worth playing. 

Certainly all was right and tranquil when we 
rolled through the pleasant land of France and 
the rich cities of Belgium, and came by ship- 
thronged Rotterdam to The Hague in the first 
301 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


week of October, 1913. Holland was at her 
autumnal best. Wide pastures wonderfully 
green were full of drowsy, contented cattle. 
The level brown fields and gardens were 
smoothly ploughed and harrowed for next 
year’s harvest, and the vast tulip-beds were 
ready to receive the little gray bulbs which 
would overflow April with a flood-tide of flowers. 
On the broad canals innumerable barges and 
sloops and motor-boats were leisurely passing, 
and on the little side-canals and ditches which 
drained the fields the duckweed spread its pale- 
emerald carpet undisturbed. In the woods — 
the tall woods of Holland — the ehns and the 
lindens were putting on frosted gold, and the 
massy beeches glowed with ruddy bronze in 
the sunlight. The quaint towns and villages 
looked at themselves in the waters at their feet 
and were content. Slowly the long arms of 
the windmills turned in the suave and shim- 
mering air. Everybody, in city and country, 
seemed to be busy without haste. And over- 
head, the luminous cloud mountains — the poor 
man’s Alps — ^marched placidly with the wind 
from horizon to horizon. 

The Hague — that ‘‘largest village in Eu- 
rope,” that city of three hundred thousand in- 
habitants set in the midst of a park, that seat 
302 


FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


of government which does not dare to call it- 
self the capital because Amsterdam is jealous— 
was in especially good form and humour, look- 
ing forward to a winter of unhurried gayety 
and feasting such as the Hollanders love. The 
new Palace of Peace, given by Mr. Andrew 
Carnegie for the use of the Permanent Court 
of Arbitration and its auxiliary bodies, had 
been opened with much ceremony in September. 
Situated before the entrance of that long, tree- 
embowered avenue which is called the Old 
Scheveningen Road, the edifice has an impos- 
ing exterior, although a mixture of architects 
in the process of building has given it some- 
thing the look of a glorified railway station. 
But the interior is altogether dignified and 
splendid, more palatial, in fact, than any of 
the royal residences. It is lined with costly 
marbles, rare Eastern woods, wonderful Japa- 
nese tapestries, and adorned with gifts from 
all the nations, except the United States, which 
had promised to give a marble statue repre- 
senting ‘^Peace through Justice,” to be placed 
on the central landing of the great Stairway of 
Honour, the most conspicuous position in the 
whole building. The promise had been stand- 
ing for some years, but not the statue. One 
of my first minor tasks at The Hague was to 
303 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


see to it that active steps were taken at Wash- 
ington to fulfil this promise, and to fill this 
empty place which waits for the American 
sculpture. 

Meantime the rich collection of books on 
international law was being arranged and 
classified in the library under the learned 
direction of M. Alberic Rolin. The late roses 
were blooming abundantly in the broad gar- 
dens of the palace. Thousands of visitors were 
coming every day to see this new wonder of 
the world, the royal house of ^^Vrede door 
RechV^ 

Queen Wilhehnina was still at her country 
palace, Het Loo^ in Gelderland. It was about 
the middle of October that I was invited there 
to lunch and to have my first audience with 
Her Majesty, and to present my letter of cre- 
dence as American Minister. 

The journey of three or four hours was made 
in company with the Dutch Minister of For- 
eign Affairs, Jonkheer Loudon, who represented 
the Netherlands at Washington for several 
years and is an intelligent and warm friend of 
the United States, and the Japanese Minister, 
Mr. Aimaro Sato, a very agreeable gentleman 
(and, by the way, an ardent angler), who now 
represents Japan at Washington. He talked 
304 


FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


a little, and with great good sense and feeling, 
of the desirability of a better understanding 
and closer relations between the United States 
and Japan. I liked what he said and the way 
he said it. But most of our conversation on 
that pleasant journey, it must be confessed, 
was personal and anecdotic — fish-stories not 
excluded. 

The ceremony of presenting the letter of 
credence, which I had rather dreaded, was in 
fact quite simple and easy. I handed to Her 
Majesty the commendatory epistle of the Presi- 
dent (beginning, as usual, “Great and good 
friend”) and made a short speech in English, 
according to the regulations. The Queen, ac- 
cepting the letter, made a brief friendly reply 
in French, which is the language of the court, 
and passed at once into an informal conversa- 
tion in English. She speaks both languages 
fluently and well. Her first inquiry, according 
to royal custom, was about family matters; 
the number of the children; the health of the 
household; the finding of a comfortable house 
to live in at The Hague, and so on. There is 
something very homely and human in the good 
manners of a court. Then the Queen asked 
about the Dutch immigrants in America, espe- 
cially in recent times — were they good citizens ? 

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I answered that we counted them among the 
best, especially strong in agriculture and in 
furniture-making, where I had seen many of 
them in the famous shops of Grand Rapids, 
Michigan. The Queen smiled, and said that 
the Netherlands, being a small country, did 
not want to lose too many of her good people. 

The impression left upon me by this first 
interview, and deepened by all that followed, 
was that Queen Wilhelmina is a woman ad- 
mirably fit for her task. Her natural shyness 
of temperament is sometimes misinterpreted as 
a haughty reserve. But that is not correct. 
She is, in fact, most sincere and straightforward, 
devoted to her duty and very intelligent in 
doing it, one of the ablest and sanest crowned 
heads in Europe, an altogether good ruler for 
the very democratic country of the Nether- 
lands. 

We settled down in the home which I had 
rented at The Hague. It was a big, dignified 
house on the principal street, the Lange Voor- 
hout, which is almost like a park, with four 
rows of trees down the middle. Our house 
had once been the palace of the Duchess of 
Saxe-Weimar, a princess of the Orange-Nassau 
family. But it was not at all showy, only com- 
fortable and large. This was fortunate for our 
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country when the rush of fugitive American 
tourists came at the beginning of the war, for 
every room on the first floor, and the biggest 
room on the second floor, were crowded with 
the work that we had to do for them. 

But during the first winter everything went 
smoothly; there was no hurry and no crowding. 
The Queen came back to her town palace. The 
rounds of ceremonial visits were ground out. 
The Hague people and our diplomatic colleagues 
were most cordial and friendly. There were 
dinners and dances and court receptions and 
fancy-dress balls — all of a discreet and mod- 
erate joyousness which New York and New- 
port, perhaps even Chicago and Hot Springs, 
would have called tame and rustic. The 
weather, for the first time in several years, was 
clear, cold, and full of sunshine. The canals 
were frozen. Everybody, from grandparents 
to grandchildren, including the Crown Princess 
Juliana, went on skates, which greatly added 
to the gayety of the nation. 

At the same time there was plenty of work 
to do. The affairs of the legation had to be 
straightened out; the sending of despatches 
and the carrying out of instructions speeded 
up; the arrangements for a proposed inter- 
national congress on education in the autumn 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


of 1914, forwarded; the Bryan treaty for a 
year of investigation before the beginning of 
hostilities — the so-called Stop-Look-Listen ’’ 
treaty — ^modified and helped through; and the 
thousand and one minor, unforeseen jobs that 
fall on a diplomatic chief carefully attended to. 

II 

Through all this time the barometer stood 
at ‘‘Set Fair.” The new Dutch Ministry, which 
Mr. Cort van der Linden, a philosophic liberal, 
had formed on the mandate of the Queen, 
seemed to have the confidence of the Parlia- 
ment. Although it had no pledged majority 
of any party or hloc behind it, the announce- 
ment of its simple programme of “carrying out 
the wishes of the majority of the voters as ex- 
pressed in the last election,” met with approval 
on every side. The “Anti-Revolutionary” lion 
lay down with the “Christian-Historical” lamb; 
the “Liberal” bear and the “Clerical” cow fed 
together; and the sucking “Social-Democrat” 
laid his hand on the “Reactionary” adder’s 
den. It was idyllic. Real progress looked 
nearly possible. 

The international sky was clear except for 
the one big cloud, which had been there so long 
that the world had grown used to it. The Great 
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Powers kept up the mad race of armaments, 
purchasing mutual terror at the price of bil- 
lions of dollars every year. 

Now the pace was quickened, but the race 
remained the same, with Germany still in the 
lead. Her new army bill of 1912 provided for 
a peace strength of 870,000 men, and a war 
strength of 5 , 400,000 men. Russia followed 
with a bill raising the term of military service 
from three to three and a half years; France 
with a bill raising the term of service from two 
to three years (but this was not until June, 
1913 ). Great Britain, with voluntary service, 
still had a comparatively small army: in size 
‘‘contemptible,” as Kaiser Wilhelm called it 
later, but in morale and spirit imsurpassed. 
Evidently the military force of Germany, which 
lay like a glittering sword in her ruler’s hand, 
was larger, better organised and equipped, than 
any other in the world. 

But might it not still be used as a make- 
weight in the scales of negotiation rather than 
as a weapon of actual offence.^ Might not the 
Kaiser still be pleased with his dramatic role 
of “the war-lord who kept the peace” ^ Might 
he not do again as he did successfully in 1909 , 
when Austria violated the provisions of the 
Congress of Berlin ( 1878 ) by annexing Bosnia 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


and Herzegovina, and Germany protected the 
theft; and with partial success at Algeciras in 
1906, and after the Agadir incident in 1911, 
when Germany gained something she wanted 
though less than she claimed? Might he not 
still be content with showing and shaking the 
sword, without fleshing it in the body of Eu- 
rope? It seemed wiser, because safer for Ger- 
many, that the Kaiser should follow that line. 
The methodical madness of a forced war looked 
incredible. 

Thus all of us who were interested in the 
continuance and solidification of the work of 
the peace conferences at The Hague reasoned 
ourselves into a peaceful hope. We knew that 
no other power except Germany was really 
prepared for war. We knew that the effort 
to draw Great Britain into an offensive and 
defensive alliance with Germany had failed, 
although London was willing to promise help 
to Berlin if attacked. We remembered Bis- 
marck’s warning that a war against Russia and 
Great Britain at the same time would be fatal 
to Germany, and we trusted that it had not 
been forgotten in Berlin. We knew that Ger- 
many, under her policy of industrial develop- 
ment and pacific penetration, was prospering 
more than ever, and we thought she might 
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enjoy that enough to continue it. We hoped 
that a third peace conference would be assem- 
bled before a general conflict of arms could be 
launched, and that some things might be done 
there which would make wilful and aggressive 
war vastly more dangerous and difficult, if not 
impossible. So we were at ease in Zion and 
worked in the way which seemed most promis- 
ing for the peace of the world. 

But that way was not included in the Ger- 
man plan. It was remote from the Berlin- 
Baghdad-Bahn, It did not lead toward a dom- 
inant imperial state of Mittel-Europa, with 
tentacles reaching out to ports on every sea 
and strait. The plan for another Hague con- 
ference failed to interest the ruling clique at 
Berlin and Potsdam because they had made 
‘‘other arrangements.” 

Very gradually slight indications of this fact 
began to appear, though they were not clearly 
understood at the time. It was like watching 
a stage-curtain which rises very slowly a little 
way and then stops. Through the crack one 
could see feet moving about and hear rumbling 
noises. Evidently a drama was in preparation. 
But what it was to be could hardly be guessed. 
Then, after a long wait, the curtain rose swiftly. 
The tragedy was revealed. Flames burst forth 
311 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


from the stage and wrapped the whole house 
in fire. Some of the spectators were the first 
victims. The confiagration still rages. It will 
not be put out until the flame-lust is smothered 
in the hearts of those who kindled and spread 
the great fire in Europe. 


Ill 

I must get back from this expression of my 
present feelings and views to the plain story 
of the experiences which gradually made me 
aware of the actual condition of affairs in Eu- 
rope and the great obstacle to a durable peace 
in the world. 

The first thing that disquieted me a little 
was the strange difficulty encountered in mak- 
ing the preliminary arrangements for the third 
peace conference. The final resolution of the 
second conference in 1907, unanimously recom- 
mended, first, that the next conference should 
be held within a 'period of eight years, and second, 
that a preparatory committee should be ap- 
pointed two years beforehand, to consider the 
subjects which were ripe for discussion, and to 
draw up a programme which could be examined 
in advance by the countries interested. That, 
of course, was necessary. No sensible govem- 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


ment will go into a conference blindfold, with- 
out knowing what is to be talked about. 

But in 1914, when the matter came into my 
hands, the lapse of time and the negligence of 
the nations (the United States included) had 
made it too late to fulfil both of these recom- 
mendations. If one was carried out the other 
must be modified or disregarded. The then 
Secretary of State, Mr. Bryan, instructed me 
to endeavour to have the conference called in 
1915, that is, within the period of eight years. 
After careful investigation and earnest effort, I 
reported that it could not be done at that date. 
The first thing was to get the preparatory com- 
mittee, which would require at least two years 
for its formation and work. Toward this point, 
then, with the approval of the President, I 
steered and rowed hard, receiving the warmest 
sympathy and most effective cooperation from 
Jonkheer Loudon, the Netherlands Minister of 
Foreign Affairs. Indeed the entire Dutch Gov- 
ernment, with the Queen at the head, were 
favourable. Holland naturally likes to have 
the peace conferences at The Hague. They 
add to the dignity of the country. The honour 
is well-deserved, for Holland may fairly be 
called the fountainhead of modern international 
law, and has produced many of its best ex- 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


pounders, from Grotius and Bynkershoek to 
Asser. Moreover, as a side consideration, these 
meetings bring a multitude of visitors to the 
country, some famous and many profitable, 
and this is not bad for business. So the move- 
ment is generally popular. 

My own particular suggestion toward getting 
the required ‘‘preparatory committee” seemed 
to its author to have the double advantage of 
practical speed and representative quality. It 
was to make use, at least for the first steps, of 
a body already in existence and in which all 
the nations were represented. But there is no 
need of describing it, because it did not go 
through. I was not so much attached to it 
that any other fair and speedy plan would not 
have received my hearty backing. 

But the trouble was that, push as hard as 
we would, there was no plan that would move 
beyond a certain point. There it stood still. 
Washington and The Hague were earnest and 
enthusiastic. St. Petersburg was warmly in- 
terested, but showed a strong preference for 
its own plan, and a sense of its right to a lead- 
ing place as the proposer of the first conference. 
London and Paris seemed favourable to the 
general idea, and took an expectant attitude 
toward any proposal of organisation that would 
be on the level and fair for everybody. Berlin 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


was singularly reserved and vague. It said lit- 
tle or nothing. It did not seem to care about 
the matter. 

I talked informally with my German friends 
at The Hague. They were polite and attentive. 
They may have had a real interest in the sub- 
ject, but it was not shown so that you could 
notice it. They expressed derogatory opinions 
on the value of peace conferences in general. 
The idea of a third conference at The Hague 
may have seemed beautiful to them, but they 
talked as if they felt that it was lacking in ac- 
tuality. Possibly I did not understand them. 
That was just the trouble — I could not. It 
was all puzzling, baflBing, mysterious. 

It seemed as if all our efforts to forward the 
calling of the next conference in the interest 
of permanent peace brought up dead against 
an invisible barrier, an impassable wall like 
the secret line drawn in the air by magic, thinner 
than a cobweb, more impenetrable than steel. 
What was it? Indifference? General scepti- 
cism ? Preoccupation with other designs which 
made the discussion of peace plans premature 
and futile? I did not know. But certainly 
there was something in the way, and the un- 
discovered nature of that something was food 
for thought. 

The next jolt that was given to my comfort- 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


able hope that the fair weather in Europe was 
likely to last for some time was a very slight 
incident that happened in the Grand Duchy 
of Luxembourg, to which small state I was 
also accredited as American Minister. 

The existence and status of Luxembourg in 
Europe before the war are not universally under- 
stood in America, and it may be useful to say 
a few words about it. The grand duchy is a 
tiny independent country, about 1,000 square 
miles of lovely hills and dales and table-lands, 
clothed with noble woods, watered by clear 
streams, and inhabited by about 250,000 peo- 
ple of undoubted German-Keltic stock and of 
equally undoubted French sympathies. The 
land lies in the form of a northward-pointing 
triangle between Germany, Belgium, and France. 
The sovereign was the Grand Duchess Marie 
Adelheid (of Nassau), a beautiful, sincere, high- 
spirited girl who succeeded to the crown on 
her father’s death. The political leader for 
twenty-five years was the Minister-President 
Paul Eyschen, an astute statesman and a de- 
voted patriot, who nursed his little country in 
his arms like a baby and brought it to a high 
degree of prosperity and contentment. 

Like Belgium, Luxembourg was a neutralised 
coimtry — the former by the Treaty of 1831; 

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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 

the latter by the Treaty of 1867 ; both treaties 
were signed and guaranteed by the Great Powers. 
But there was a distinct diflFerence between the 
two neutralities. That of Belgium was an armed 
neutrality; her forts and her military forces 
were left to her. That of Luxembourg was a 
disarmed neutrality; her only fortress was dis- 
mantled and razed to the ground, and her army 
was reduced and limited to one company of 
gendarmes and one company of infantry. Thus 
Belgium had the right, the duty, and the power 
to resist if her territory were violated by the 
armed forces of a belligerent. But Luxembourg 
was made powerless to resist; she could only 
protest. Remember this when you consider the 
fates which fell on the two countries. Remem- 
ber how the proud and independent little duchy 
must have felt beforehand, standing without a 
weapon amid the mighty armed powers of Eu- 
rope. 

It was in February or early in March, 1914, 
that the Grand Duchess sent out an invitation 
to the diplomatic corps to attend a court func- 
tion. We all went gladly because of the pleas- 
antness of the land and the good hospitality 
of the palace. There were separate audiences 
with Her Royal Highness in the morning, a 
big luncheon given by the Cabinet and the 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


city authorities at noon, a state dinner in the 
old Spanish palace at night, and after that a 
gala concert. It was then that the incident 
occurred. I had heard in the town that thirty 
military oflScers from the German garrison at 
Trier, a few miles away on the border, were 
coming, invited or self-invited, to the concert, 
and the Luxembourgers did not like the idea 
at all. Well, the Germans came in a body, 
some of them courteous and aflPable, others 
stiff, wooden, high-chinned, and staring — dis- 
tinctly a foreign group. They were tactless 
enough to propose staying over the next day. 
A big crowd of excited Luxembourgers filled 
the streets in the morning and gave every sign 
of extreme dissatisfaction. ‘‘What were these 
Prussian soldiers doing there? Had they come 
to spy out the land and the city in preparation 
for an invasion? Was there a stray prince or 
duke among them who wanted to marry the 
Grand Duchess? The music was over. These 
Kriegs-Herren had better go home at once — at 
once, did they understand ? ’’ Yes, they under- 
stood, and they went by the next train, which 
took them to Trier in an hour. 

It was a very trivial affair. But it seemed 
to throw some light on the mentality of the 
German army. It also made me reflect upon 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


the state of mind of this little unarmed country 
living next door to the big military machine 
and directly on the open way to France. Yet 
we all laughed and joked about the incident 
on the way back to Holland in the train. Only 
the French, German, Italian, and Belgian Minis- 
ters were not with us, for these countries have 
separate missions in Luxembourg. 

At The Hague everything pursued its tran- 
quil course as usual. Golf set in. The tulips 
bloomed in a sea of splendour. I laboured at 
the footless task of promoting the third peace 
conference. It was not until the season of 
Pentecost, 1914, that I went to Luxembourg 
again, intending to gather material for a re- 
port on the flourishing steel industry there, 
(which had developed some new processes,) 
and to get a little trout-fishing on the side. 
During that pleasant journey two things hap- 
pened which opened my eyes. 

The first was at a luncheon which Prime 
Minister Eyschen gave me. It was a friendly 
foursome: our genial host; the German Minis- 
ter, Von B.; the French Minister, M.; and 
myself. Mr. Eyschen’s wine-cellar was famous, 
and his old Luxembourg cook was a wonder; 
she served a repast which made us linger at 
table for three hours. The conversation ram- 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


bled everywhere, and there were no chains or 
padlocks on it. It was in French, English, and 
German, but mostly in French. One remark 
has stuck in my memory ever since. Mr. 
Eyschen said to me: ‘‘You have heard of the 
famous ' Luxembourger Loch'? It is the easiest 
military road between Germany and France.” 
Then he continued with great good humour to 
the two gentlemen at the ends of the table: 
“Perhaps one of your two countries may march 
an army through it before long, and we cer- 
tainly cannot stop you.” Then he turned to 
Herr von B., still smiling: “Most likely it 
will be your country, Excellenz ! But please 
remember, for the last ten years we have made 
our mining concessions and contracts so that 
they will hold, whatever happens. And we 
have spent the greatest part of our national 
income on our roads. You can’t roll them up 
and carry them off in your pocket !” Of course 
we all laughed. But it was serious. Two months 
later the French Minister had to make a quick 
and quiet flight along one of those very roads. 

A couple of days after the luncheon, at the 
beginning of June, I saw a curious confirmation 
of Eyschen’s hint. Having gone just over the 
German border for a bit of angling, I was fol- 
lowing a very lovely little river full of trout and 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


grayling. With me were two or three Luxem- 
bourgers and as many Germans, to whom fish- 
ing with the fly — ‘‘fine and far off” — ^was a new 
and curious sight. Along the east bank of the 
stream ran one of the strategic railways of Ger- 
many, from Koln to Trier. All day long in- 
numerable trains rolled southward along that 
line, and every train was packed with soldiers 
in field-gray — their cheerful, stolid bullet-heads 
stuck out of all the windows. “Why so many 
soldiers,” I asked, “and where are they all go- 
ing ? ” “ Ach ! ” replied my German companions, 
“it is Pfingstferien (Pentecost vacation), and 
they are sent a changing of scene and air to 
get.” My Luxembourg friends laughed. “Yes, 
yes,” they said. “That is it. Trier has a splen- 
did climate for soldiers. The situation is kolos- 
5aZ for that!” 

When we passed through the hot and dusty 
little city it was simply swarming with the field- 
gray ones — thousands upon thousands of them 
— new barracks everywhere; parks of artillery; 
mountains of munitions and military stores. It 
was a veritable base of operation, ready for 
war. 

Now the point is that Trier is just seven 
miles from Wasserbillig on the Luxembourg 
frontier, the place where the armed German 
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forces entered the neutral land on August 2, 
1914. 

The government and the ^‘grande armee” 
of the Grand Duchess protested. But — well, 
did you ever see a wren resist an eagle The 
motor- van (not the private car of Her Royal 
Highness, as rumour has said, but just an 
ordinary 'panier-a-salade) , which was drawn up 
across the road to the capital, was rolled into 
the ditch. The mighty host of invaders, having 
long been ready, marched triumphantly into 
the dismantled fortress, and along their smooth, 
unlawful way to France. I had caught, in June, 
angling along the little river, a passing glimpse 
of the preparation for that march. 

But what about things on the French side 
of the border in that same week of June, 1914 ? 
Well, I can only tell what I saw. Returning to 
Holland by way of Paris, I saw no soldiers in 
the trains, only a few scattered members of 
the local garrisons at the railway stations, not 
a man in arms within ten kilometres of the 
frontier. It seemed as if France slept quietly 
at the southern edge of Luxembourg, believing 
that the solemn treaty, which had made Ger- 
many respect the neutrality of that little land 
even in the war of 1870, still held good to safe- 
guard France from a treacherous attack in the 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


rear, through a peaceful neighbour’s garden. 
Longwy — the poor, old-fashioned fortress in 
the northeast corner of France — had hardly 
enough guns for a big rabbit-shoot, and hardly 
enough garrison to man the guns. The con- 
quering Crown Prince afterward took it almost 
as easily as a boy steals an apple from an un- 
protected orchard. It was the first star in his 
diadem of glory. But Verdun, though near by, 
was not the second. 

From this little journey I went home to The 
Hague with the clear conviction that one na- 
tion in Europe was ready for war, and wanted 
war, and intended war on the first convenient 
opportunity. But when would that be.^ Not 
even the most truculent government could 
well venture a bald declaration of hostilities 
without some plausible pretext, some ostensible 
ground of quarrel. Where was it? There was 
none in sight. Of course the danger of a homi- 
cidal crisis in the insanity of armaments was 
always there. Of course the ambition of Ger- 
many for ‘‘a place in the sun” was as coldly 
fierce as ever and the Pan-Germanists were im- 
patient. But they could hardly proclaim war 
without saying what place and whose place they 
wanted. Nor was there any particular griev- 
ance on which they could stand as a colourable 
S23 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


ground of armed conflict. The Kaiser had 
prepared for war, no doubt. The argument 
and justification of war as the means of spread- 
ing the German Kultur were in the Potsdam 
mind. But the concrete and definite occasion 
of war was lacking. How long would that lack 
hold off the storm ^ Could the precarious peace 
be maintained until measures to enforce and 
protect it by common consent could be taken? 

These questions were answered with dread- 
ful suddenness. The curtain which had half- 
concealed the scene went up with a rush, and 
the missing occasion of war was revealed in 
the flash of a pistol. 


IV 

On June 28, 1914, the Archduke Franz Ferdi- 
nand, heir apparent to the Austro-Hungarian 
crowns, and his wife, the Duchess of Hohen- 
burg, were shot to death in the main street of 
Serajevo, the capital of the annexed provinces 
of Bosnia and Herzegovina, to which they were 
paying a visit of ceremony. The news of this 
murder filled all thoughtful people in Europe 
with horror and dismay. It was a dark and unex- 
plained crime. The Crown Prince and his wife 
had not been persorKB gratce with the Viennese 
court, but the brutal manner of their taking 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


off aroused the anger of the people. Vengeance 
was called for. The two wretched murderers 
were Austrian subjects, but they were Servian 
sympathisers, and in some kind of connection 
with a society called Narodna Obrana, whose 
avowed object was to work for a ‘‘Greater Ser- 
via,” including the southern Slavic provinces 
of Austria. The Government of Austria-Hun- 
gary, having conducted a secret inquiry, declared 
that it had proofs that the instructions and the 
weapons for the crime came from Servia. On 
the other hand, it has not been denied that the 
Servian Minister at Vienna had conveyed a 
warning to the Government there, a week be- 
fore the ceremonial visit to Serajevo, to the 
effect that it would be wise to give the visit up, 
as there were grounds for believing that an as- 
sassination had been planned. We knew little 
or nothing of all this at the time, in The Hague. 
Anxiously we waited for light under the black 
cloud. It came like lightning in the Austro- 
Hungarian note to Servia of July 23, 1914. 

It was made public the next day. I remember 
coming home that evening from a motor-drive 
through the dead cities of the Zuyder Zee. Tak- 
ing up the newspaper in my quiet library, I read 
the note. The paper dropped from my hand, 
and I said to my son: “That means an im- 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


mense war. God knows how far it will go and 
how long it will last.’’ 

This Austrian ultimatum was so severe in 
matter and in manner as to justify the com- 
ment of Sir Edward Grey: ‘‘Never have I seen 
one state address to another independent state 
a document of so formidable a character.” It 
not only dictated a public confession of guilt; 
it also made a series of ten sweeping demands 
on Servia, one of which (No. 5) seemed to im- 
ply a surrender of independent sovereignty; 
and it allowed only forty-eight hours for an 
unqualified, complete acceptance. 

Russia promptly declared that she would 
not object to the punishment of Servians for 
any proved offence, but that she must defend 
the territorial integrity and independence of 
Servia. Italy and France suggested an ex- 
tension of time for the answer. France and 
Russia advised Servia to make a general accep- 
tance of the ultimatum. She did so in her reply 
of the 25th, reserving demand No. 5, which 
she said she did not understand, and offering 
to submit that point, or the whole matter, to 
the tribunal at The Hague. Austria had in- 
structed her minister at Belgrade to reject any- 
thing but a categorical submission to the ulti- 
matum. When the Servian reply was handed to 
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FAIR-WEATHER AND STORM SIGNS 


him he said that it was not good enough, de- 
manded his passports, and left the capital with- 
in half an hour. Germany, vowing that she 
had no knowledge of the text of the Austrian 
note before it was presented and had not in- 
fluenced its contents (which seems incredible, 
as I shall show later), nevertheless announced 
that she approved and would support it. 

Verily this was ‘"miching mallecho,” as Ham- 
let says. It meant mischief. Austria was in- 
flexible in her purpose to make war on Servia. 
Russia’s warning that in such a case she could 
not stand aside and see a small kindred nation 
subjugated, and her appeals for arbitration or 
four-power mediation, which Great Britain, 
France, and Italy supported, were disregarded. 
Behind Austria stood Germany, proud, menac- 
ing, armed to the teeth, ready for attack, sup- 
porting if not instigating the relentless Austrian 
purpose. Something vast and very evil was 
impending over the world. 

That was our conviction at The Hague in 
the fateful week from July 24 to August 1, 1914. 
We who stood outside the secret councils of 
the Central Powers were both bewildered and 
dismayed. Could it be that Europe of the 
twentieth century was to be thrust back into 
the ancient barbarism of a general war? It 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


was like a dreadful nightmare. There was the 
head of the huge dragon, crested, fanged, clad 
in glittering scales, poised above the world and 
ready to strike. We were benumbed and terri- 
fied. There was nothing that we could do. 
The monstrous thing advanced, but even while 
we shuddered we could not make ourselves feel 
that it was real. It had the vagueness and 
the horrid pressure of a bad dream. 

If it seemed dreamlike to us, so near at hand, 
how could the people in America, three thou- 
sand miles away, feel its reality or grasp its 
meaning ? They could not do it then, and many 
of them have not done it yet. 

But we who were on the other side of the sea 
were suddenly and rudely awakened to know 
that the bad dream was all too real. On July 
28 Austria declared war on Servia. On the 
29th Russia ordered a partial mobilisation of 
troops on the Austrian frontier. On the same 
night the Austrian troops entered Servia and 
bombarded Belgrade. On the 31st Austria 
and Russia ordered a general mobilisation. 

Then Germany, already coiled, struck. 

On August 1 Germany declared war on Rus- 
sia. On the 2d Germany invaded Luxembourg 
and France. On the 3d Germany declared 
war on France. On the 4th Germany invaded 
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Belgium, in violation of her solemn treaty. 
Great Britain, having given warning to the 
Kaiser that she meant to keep her promise to 
protect the neutrality of Belgium, severed diplo- 
matic relations at midnight on August 4th, and 
on the 6th Parliament, by a vote of extraor- 
dinary supply, formally accepted a state of war 
with Germany, the invader. 

So the storm signs, foreshadowed in fair 
weather, were fulfilled in tempest, more vast 
and cruel than the world had ever known. 

The Barabbas of war was preferred to the 
Christ of righteous judgment. 

The hope of an enduring peace through jus- 
tice receded and grew dim. We knew that it 
could not be rekindled until the ruthless mili- 
tary power of Germany, that had denied and 
rejected it, was defeated and brought to re- 
pentance. 

Thus those who loved true peace — peace 
with equal security for small and great nations, 
peace with law protecting the liberties of the 
people, peace with power to defend itself against 
assault — were forced to fight for it or give it 
up. 


329 


II 


THE WERWOLF AT HOME 

A HALF-TOLD TALE OF 1914 

rpHE man who was also a Werwolf sat in 
in his arbour, drinking excellent beer. 

He was not an ill-looking man. His fondness 
for an out-of-door life had given him a ruddy 
colour. He was tall and blond. His eyes were 
gray. But there was a shifty look in them, 
now dreamy, now fierce. At times they con- 
tracted to mere slits. His chin sloped away 
to nothing. His legs were long and thin, his 
movements springy and uncertain. 

The philosopher who came to pay his re- 
spects to the man who was also a Werwolf 
(whom we shall henceforth call MAW for 
short) was named Professor Schmuck. He was 
a globular man, with protruding china-blue eyes, 
much magnified by immense spectacles. The 
fame of his book on Eschatological Problems 
among the Hivites and Hittites was world-wide. 
But his real specialty was universal knowledge. 

Yet on entering the arbour where MAW 
was sitting, this world-renowned Learned One 
330 


THE WERWOLF AT HOME 


made three deep obeisances, as if he were ap- 
proaching an idol, and stammered in a husky 
voice : ^"Highly Exalted ! — dare I ? ” 

‘^Ah, our good Schmuck!” said MAW, turn- 
ing in his chair and recrossing his legs. ‘‘Come 
in. Take place. Take beer. Take breath. Speak 
out.’’ 

The professor, thus graciously reassured, set 
forth his errand. 

“I have come to you. Highly Exalted, to 
inquire your exalted views on the subject of 
Lycanthropy. Your Exaltedness knows ” 

“Yes, yes,” broke in MAW, “old Teutonic 
legend. Men become wolves. Fiercest breed. 
Eat people up. Frighten everybody. Ravage 
countryside. Beautiful myth ! Teaches power 
is greatest thing. Might gives right. Force 
over all !” 

“Certainly, Highly Exalted,” said Schmuck 
humbly, “it is a wonder-beautiful myth, full of 
true idealism. But what if it lost its purely 
mythical quality and became historical, actual, 
contemporaneous? Would it not change its 
aspect ? Would not people object to it ? Might 
not the Werwolf get himself disliked?” 

“Perhaps,” answered MAW, smiling till his 
eyes almost disappeared. “But what differ- 
ence? Ignorant people, weak people, no ac- 
331 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


count. Werwolf stronger race, therefore supe- 
rior. Objections silly.” 

“True, Exaltedness,” said Schmuck. “It is 
the first duty of every ideal to realise itself. 
Yet in this particular matter the complaints 
are very bitter. It is said that great numbers 
of helpless men and women have been devoured, 
their children torn in pieces, their farms and 
gardens ravaged, and their houses destroyed 
by Werwolves quite recently. Shall I deny 
it?” 

“No,” growled MAW. “Don’t be a fool. 
It is too well known. We know it ourselves. 
We are the wolf -pack. Don’t deny it. Justify 
it. That’s your business. Earn your salary.” 

Schmuck was as nearly embarrassed as it is 
possible for a professor to be. 

“Willingly, Exaltedness,” he stammered. 
“But the trouble is to find the basic arguments. 
Even among the Hivites and the Hittites, I 
have not yet discovered any traces ” 

“Nonsense,” snapped MAW. “Hivites and 
Hittites are dead. WE are alive. Justify US. 
Think!” 

“Pardon, Highly Exalted,” said Schmuck, 
“I was trying to think. The first justification 
that occurs to me is the plea of necessity — 
biological necessity.” 


332 


THE WERWOLF AT HOME 


‘Tt sounds good/' grunted MAW. ‘‘But 
vague. Explain." 

“A biological necessity is a thing that knows 
no law. It is the inward urge of every living 
creature to expand its own life without regard 
to the lives of others. It is above morality, 
because whatever is necessary is moral." 

“Excellent," exclaimed MAW. “We have 
felt that oimselves. Continue." 

“Now, doubtless, the Highly Exalted are 
often hungry." 

“Always," interrupted MAW, ‘‘say al- 
ways !" 

“Always being hungry," droned Schmuck, 
“the Highly Exalted may feel at certain times 
the craving for a certain kind of food in order 
to obtain a more perfect expansion. To need 
is to take. Is it not so.^" 

“It is," said MAW, “we do. Find another 
argument." 

“Self-defense,” replied Schmuck. 

“Too old," said MAW. “Worn out. Won't 
go any more." 

“But as I shall put it. Highly Exalted will 
see a newness in it. The best way to defend 
oneself is by injuring others. Sheep, for ex- 
ample, when gathered in sufficient numbers 
are the most dangerous animals in the world. 

333 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

The only way to be safe from them is to attack 
them and scatter them. Especially the small 
flocks, for that prevents their growing larger 
and becoming more dangerous. Particularly 
should the sheep with horns be attacked. Sheep 
have no right to have horns. Wolves have 
none. But even the hornless sheep and the 
lambs should not be spared, for by rending 
them you may frighten and discourage the 
horned ones.” 

‘‘Capital,” cried MAW, springing up and 
pacing the arbour in excitement. “Just our 
own idea. Frightfulness increases force. We 
like to make people afraid. Essence of Wer- 
wolfery. Give another argument, excellent 
Schmuck. Think another thought.” 

“The Highly Exalted will forgive me. I 
cannot, momentarily, bring forth another.” 

“What!” snarled an angry voice above the 
trembling professor. “Not think of the best 
argument of all! Forget your creed! Deny 
your faith! Wretched Schmuck! Who gave 
you a place ? Who feeds you ? Who are WE ? ” 

“The Lord’s Anointed !” murmured Schmuck, 
falling on his knees. 

MAW drew himself up, stiff as steel. "'His 
eyes blazed through their slits like coals of 
fire. 


334 


THE WERWOLF AT HOME 

“Right!” he cried. “Right at last. That 
is the great argument. Use it. We are the 
Chosen of God. We are his weapon, his vice- 
gerent. Whatever We do is a brave act and 
a good deed. Woe to the disobedient!” 

He held out his hand and lifted the professor 
to his feet. 

“Stand up, Schmuck. You are forgiven. 
Take more beer. To-night I follow biological 
necessity. More work to do. But you go and 
tell people the truth.” 

So Schmuck went. Whether he told the 
truth or not is uncertain. At all events, it was 
in different words. And the Werwolfery con- 
tinued. 


335 


ni 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 
I 

TN the days immediately before and after 
^ the breaking of the war-tempest, the ser- 
vants of the United States Government in Eu- 
rope were suddenly overwhelmed by a flood 
of work and care. The strenuous, incessant 
toil in the consulates, legations, and embassies 
acted somewhat as a narcotic. There was so 
much to do that there was no time to worry. 

The sense of an unmeasured calamity was 
present in the background of our thoughts from 
the very beginning. But it was not until later 
that the nature of the disaster grew clear and 
poignant. As month after month hammered 
swiftly by, the meaning and portent of the 
catastrophe emerged more sharply and pene- 
trated our minds more deeply, stinging us 
awake. 

A mighty nation which “rejected the dream 
of universal peace throughout the world as 
non-German” (the Crown Prince, Germany in 
Arms ) ; a nation trained for war as a “biological 
336 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 

necessity In which Might proves itself the su- 
preme Right” (Bernhardi, Germany and the 
Next War); a nation which had been taught 
that ‘‘frightfulness” is a lawful and essential 
weapon in war (Von Clausewitz); and whose 
generals said, “Frankly, we are and must be 
barbarians” (Von Diefurth, Hamburger Nach- 
richten), while their philosophers declared that 
“The German is the superior type of the species 
homo sajdens^^ (Woltmann); a nation whose 
Imperial Head commended to his soldiers the 
example of the Huns, and proclaimed, “It is 
to the empire of the world that the German 
genius aspires” (Kaiser Wilhehn, Speech at 
Aix-la-Chapelle, June 20, 1902) — a nation thus 
armed, instructed, disciplined, and demoralised 
had broken loose. Another Attila had come, 
with a new horde behind him to devastate and 
change the face of the world. In the tumult 
and darkness which enfolded Europe, the Wer- 
wolf was at large. We could hear him howling 
in the forest. The cries of his victims grew 
louder, piercing our hearts with pity and just 
wrath. 

n 

But even when the most dreadful things 
are happening around you, the regular and 
337 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


necessary work of the world must be carried 
on. Your own particular ‘‘chore’’ must be 
done as well as you can do it. 

As the trouble drew near and suddenly fell 
upon the world, the burden of enormously in- 
creased and varied duties pressed heavily upon 
the American representatives abroad. The 
first thing that we had to do was to make pro- 
vision for taking care of our own people in Eu- 
rope who were caught out in the storm and 
the danger. 

That was a practical job with unlimited 
requirements. No one, except those who had 
the distracting privilege of being in the Amer- 
ican diplomatic and consular service in the 
summer of 1914, knows how much work and 
how many kinds of work rushed down upon 
us in a moment. Banking, postal, and tele- 
graph service, transportation, hotel and board- 
ing-house business, baggage express, the re- 
covery of missing articles and persons, the 
reunion of curiously separated families, con- 
fidential inquiries, medical service (mainly 
mind-healing), and free consultation on every 
subject under the sun — all these different oc- 
cupations, trades, and professions were not 
set down in our programme when we came to 
Europe, nor covered by the slim calf-bound 
338 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


volume of Instructions to Diplomatic Officers 
which was our only guide-book. But we had 
to learn them at short notice and practice them 
as best we could. No doubt we often acted 
in a way that was not strictly protocolaire. Cer- 
tainly we made mistakes. But it was better 
to do that than to sit like bumps on a log doing 
nothing. The immediate affair in hand was 
to help our own folks who were in distress and 
difficulty and who wanted to get home as quickly 
and as safely as possible. So we tried to do 
it, making use of the best means available, and 
praying that heaven and our diplomatic col- 
leagues would forgive any errors or gaffes that 
we might make. We preserved a profound 
respect for etiquette and regularity. But our 
predominant anxiety was to get the things done 
that had to be done. 

Take an illustration. Excuse the personal 
references in it. 

From the very beginning it seemed clear 
to me that one of the greatest difficulties in 
the first days of war would be to secure a 
supply of ready money for American travellers 
in flight. As a rule they carried little hard cash 
with them. Paper money would be at a dis- 
count; checks and drafts difficult, if not im- 
possible, to negotiate in Holland. Moratoriums 
339 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


were falling everywhere as ‘‘thick as leaves in 
Vallombrosa.” 

So I went directly to my friend Foreign 
Minister Loudon, and asked him a plain ques- 
tion. 

“Would your Government be willing to help 
us in getting American travellers’ checks and 
drafts on letters of credit cashed if I should 
indorse them as American Minister.^” 

He answered as promptly as if the suggestion 
had already been formed in his own mind — as 
perhaps it had. 

“Certainly, and gladly! Those pieces of 
paper would be the best securities in the world 
— short-term notes of the American Govern- 
ment. If you can get the authority from Wash- 
ington to indorse, the Bank of the Netherlands 
will honour the checks and drafts; and if the 
Bank hesitates the National Treasury will cash 
them.” 

I cabled to the Department of State asking 
permission to make the indorsements (a thing 
hitherto expressly forbidden by the instructions 
to diplomatic ofiicers), and explaining that I 
would take in each case the best security ob- 
tainable, whether in the form of a draft on a 
letter of credit or a personal note of hand with 
satisfactory references, and that no money 
340 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 

should be drawn except for necessary living ex- 
penses and the cost of the journey home. The 
answer came promptly: ‘‘You have the au- 
thority to indorse.” 

So a system of international banking be- 
tween two Governments was introduced. I 
believe it was absolutely a new plan. But it 
worked. 

Then another idea came to me. The letters 
of credit were usually drawn on London or 
Paris. In both cities a moratorium was on. 
Why not make the drafts directly on New 
York ? Why not call on the signer of the let- 
ter of credit for the money instead of calling 
on the addressee.^ This would cut out any 
possibility of difficulty from the moratorium. 

This also was a new method. But it seemed 
reasonable. We tried it. And it worked. A 
visiting committee of New York bankers to 
whom I related this experience later laughed 
immensely. They also made some remarks 
about “amateurs” and “audacity” which I 
would rather not repeat. But upon the whole 
they did not seem shocked beyond recovery. 

So it happened, by good fortune, that there 
was never a day in The Hague when an Amer- 
ican fugitive from the war, homeward bound, 
could not obtain what cash he needed for him 
341 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


to live and to get to the United States. But 
not money to buy souvenir spoons, or old 
furniture and pictures. ‘‘Very sorry,” we ex- 
plained, “but our Government is not dealing 
in antiquities at present. It is simply helping 
you to get home as quickly and comfortably 
as possible. Please tell us how much money 
you need for board and passage-money and 
you shall have it.” 

Except three or four chronic growlers and a 
few passionate antiquarian ladies, everybody 
took it good-humouredly and cheerfully. I 
think they imderstood, though not always 
clearly, that our Government was doing more 
for its citizens caught out in a tempest than 
any other government in the world would have 
done. 

When the Tennessee arrived in the latter part 
of August with $2,500,000 in gold for the same 
purpose, it was another illustration of our Gov- 
ernment’s parental care and forethought. We 
received our share of this gold at The Hague. 
The first use we made of part of it was to take 
up the American checks and drafts on which 
the Bank of the Netherlands had advanced the 
money. Then we sent the paper to America 
for collection and repayment to the National 
Treasury. I have not the accounts here and 
342 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


cannot speak by the book, but I think I am 
not far out in saying that our loss on these trans- 
actions was less than five per cent of the total 
amount handled. And we banked for some 
very poor people, too ! 

I never had any idea, before the war broke 
out, how many of our countrymen and country- 
women there are roaming about Europe every 
summer, and with what a cheerful trust in 
Providence and utter disregard of needful papers 
and precautions some of them roam! There 
were young women travelling alone or in groups 
of two or three. There were old men so feeble 
that one’s first thought on seeing them was: 
‘‘How did you get away from your nurse 
There were people with superfluous funds, and 
people with barely enough funds, and people 
with no funds at all. There were college boys 
who had worked their way over and couldn’t 
find a chance to work it back. There were art- 
students and music-students whose resources 
had given out. 

There was a very rich woman, plastered with 
diamonds, who demanded the free use of my 
garage for the storage of her automobile. When 
I explained that, to my profound regret, it was 
impossible, because three American guest cars 
were already stored there and the place could 
343 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


hold no more, she flounced out of the room in 
high dudgeon. 

There was a lady of a different type who 
came to say, very modestly, that she had a 
balance in a bank at The Hague which she 
wanted to leave to my order for use in helping 
people who were poor and deserving. ‘‘Please 
make as sure as you can of the poverty,’’ said 
she, “but take a chance, now and then, on the 
moral deserts. We can’t confine our kindness 
to saints.” This gift amounted to two or three 
thousand dollars, and was the foundation of 
the Minister’s private benevolence fund, which 
proved so useful in later days and of which a 
remnant has been left for my successor. 

An American wrote to us from a little village 
in a remote province of the Netherlands saying 
that his remittances from home had not arrived 
and that he was penniless. He added by way 
of personal description: “My social position 
is that of a Catholic priest with nervous pros- 
tration.” We helped him and he proved to be 
all right. 

A rising comic-opera star, of engaging ap- 
pearance and manners (American), who was 
under a temporary financial obscuration because 
her company in Holland had broken up, came 
to ask us to assist her in getting to Germany, 
344 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


where she had friends and hoped to find work. 
We did it with alacrity. Then she wrote asking 
us to forward certain legal papers in connection 
with a divorce which she contemplated. We 
did it. Then she sent us some of her newspaper 
articles and a lot of clippings from German 
journals, requesting us to transmit them in the 
Legation pouch to America. This we politely 
declined, with the plea of non possumus. Where- 
upon she was furious and denounced us to the 
German authorities and the German-American 
press. 

An American lady whose husband was dying 
in Hamburg came in desperate distress with 
her daughter, to beg us to aid them in getting 
to him. We found the only way that was open, 
a little-known route through the northeast 
comer of Holland, procured the necessary per- 
mits, and enabled the wife and daughter to 
reach his bedside before he died. 

A poor woman (with a nice little baby), whose 
husband, a naturalised American, was ‘‘some- 
where in Argentina,” wanted to go to his family 
in one of the northwestern States. She had 
no money. We paid her expenses in The Hague 
until we could get into communication with 
the family, and then sent her home rejoicing. 

These are a few examples of the ever-recur- 
345 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


ring humour and pathos which touched our 
incessant grind of peace work in war times at 
The Hague. Thousands and thousands of 
Americans, real or presumptive, passed through 
the Legation — all sorts and conditions of men, 
asking for all kinds of things. 

Our house was transformed Into an Inquiry 
Office and a Bureau for First Aid to the In- 
jured. There was often a dense throng outside 
the front door, filling the street and reaching 
over into the park. Two Dutch boy scouts, 
capital fellows in khaki, volunteered their as- 
sistance in keeping order, and stood guard at 
the entrance giving out numbered tickets of 
admission so that the house might not be choked 
and all the work stopped. 

You see, Holland was the narrow neck of 
the bottle, and the incredible multitudes of 
Americans who were scattered about in Ger- 
many, Austria, Russia, and parts of Switzerland, 
came pouring out our way. There was no end 
to the extra work. Many a night I did not get 
to bed, but took a bath and breakfast in the 
morning and went ahead with the next day’s 
business. No eight-hour day in that estab- 
lishment ! 

It would have been impossible to hold on 
and keep going but for the devotion and in- 
346 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


dustry of the entire Legation staff, with Mar- 
shall Langhorne as first secretary, and the splen- 
did aid of the volunteers who came to help us 
through. Professor George Grafton Wilson, 
of Harvard, was our Counsellor in International 
Law. Professor Philip M. Brown, of Prince- 
ton, former Minister to Honduras, gave his 
valuable service. Professor F. J. Moore, of 
the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 
took charge of the registration bureau. Hon. 
Charles H. Sherrill, former Ambassador to the 
Argentine, and Charles Edward Russell, the 
Socialist, and his wife, were among our best 
workers. Alexander R. Gulick was at the head 
of the busy correspondence department. Van 
Santvoord Merle-Smith, Evans Hubbard, and 
my son Tertius van Dyke ran the banking de- 
partment. These are only a few names among 
the many good men and women who helped 
their country for love. 

My library was the Diplomatic Office, to 
which the despatches and the passports came; 
the Conference Chamber, where all vexed ques- 
tions were discussed and decided; the Court 
of Appeal, where people who thought they had 
not received fair treatment could present their 
complaints; and the Consolation Room, where 
the really distressed, as well as the slightly 
347 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


hysterical, came to tell their troubles. Some 
of them were tragic and some comic. The most 
agitated and frightened persons were among 
the fat commercial men. The women, as a 
rule, were fine and steady and cheerful, espe- 
cially the American-bom. They met the ad- 
venture with good sense and smiling faces; 
asked with commendable brevity for the best 
advice or service that we could give them; and 
usually took the advice and were more grateful 
for the service than it deserved. 

So the days rolled on, full of infinitely varied 
cares and labours; and every afternoon, about 
five o’clock, the whole staff with a dozen or a 
score of our passing friends, went out under 
the spreading chestnut-tree in the back garden 
for a half-hour of tea and talk. It was all very 
peaceful and democratic. We were in neutral, 
friendly Holland. The big, protecting shield 
of Uncle Sam” was over us, and we felt safe. 

Ill 

Yet how near, how fearful, was the fierce 
reality of the unpardonable war ! Belgium was 
invaded by the Germans, an hour or two away 
from us. At any moment their troops might 
be tempted to take the short cut through the 
narrow strip of Dutch territory which runs so 

348 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


far down into Belgium; and then the neutrality 
of Holland would be gone! The little country 
would be part of the battle-field. Holland has 
always been resolved to fight any invader. 

All through August and September, 1914, 
that fear hung over the Dutch people. It re- 
curred later again and again — whenever a move- 
ment of German troops came too close to the 
borders of Holland; whenever a newspaper 
tale of impending operations transpired from 
Berlin or London. Once or twice the anxiety 
rose almost to a popular panic. But I noticed 
that even then the stock-market at Amsterdam 
remained calm. Now, the Dutch are a very 
prudent folk, especially the bankers. There- 
fore I concluded that somebody had received 
strong assurances both from Germany and 
Great Britain that neither would invade the 
Netherlands provided the other abstained. 

But all the time there was that dreadful ex- 
ample of the ‘‘scrap of paper” — the treaty 
which had been no protection for Belgium — 
to shake confidence in any pledge of Germany. 
And all the time the news from just beyond 
the border grew more and more horrible. Towns 
and villages were looted and burned. Civilians 
were massacred; women outraged; children 
brought to death. Heavy fines and ransoms 
349 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


were imposed for slight or imaginary offences. 
(They amounted to more than $40,000,000 in 
addition to the ‘‘war contribution” exacted, 
which by August, 1917, had reached $288,- 
000,000.) Churches were ruined. Priests were 
shot. The country was stripped and laid waste. 
All the scruples and rules by which men had 
sought to moderate the needless cruelties of 
war were mocked and flung aside. Ruin marked 
the track of the German troops, and terror ran 
before their advance. 

On August 19 Aerschot was sacked and 150 
of its inhabitants killed. On the 20th Andenne 
met the same fate and the number of the slain 
was 250. On the 23d Dinant was wrecked and 
more than 600 men and women were murdered. 
On the 25th the university library at Louvain 
was set on fire and burned. The pillage and 
devastation of the city and its environs con- 
tinued for ten days. More than 2,000 houses 
were destroyed, and more than 100 civilians 
were butchered. Time would fail me to tell 
of the industrious little towns and the quaint 
Old World hamlets that were wrecked, or of 
the men and women and young children who 
were tortured, and had trial of mockings and 
bonds and imprisonment, and were slain by the 
sword and by fire. Is it not all set down by 
350 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


sworn witnesses in the great gray book of the 
Kingdom of Belgium, and in the blue book of 
the committee of which Viscount Bryce was 
the head ? Have I not heard with my own ears 
the agony of those whose parents were shot 
down before their eyes, whose children were 
slain or ravished, whose wives or husbands 
were carried into captivity, whose homes were 
made desolate, and who themselves barely 
escaped with their lives ? 

Find an explanation for these Belgian atroci- 
ties if you can. What if a few shots were fired 
by ignorant and infuriated civilians from the 
windows of houses? It has not been proved. 
But even if it were, it would be no reason for 
the martyrdom of a whole population, for the 
destruction of distant and unincriminated towns, 
for the massacre of evidently innocent persons. 

Was it the drink found in the cellars of the 
houses that made the German officers and sol- 
diers mad? Perhaps so. But that makes the 
case no better. It was stolen drink. 

Was it the carrying out of the cold-blooded 
policy of ‘‘frightfulness” as a necessary weapon 
of war? That is the wickedest excuse of all. 
It is really an accusation. The probable truth 
of it is supported by what happened later, when 
the Germans came to Poland, and when the 
351 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

Turks, their allies and pupils in the art of war, 
slaughtered 800,000 Armenians or drove them 
to a slow, painful death. It means just what 
the title of this chapter says. The Werwolf was 
at large. 

The first evidence of this spirit in the Ger- 
man conduct of the war that came to my per- 
sonal knowledge was on August 25. Two or 
three days before, our American Consul-General 
in Antwerp, which was still the temporary seat 
of the Belgian Government, had written to me 
saying that he was absolutely destitute and 
begging me to send him some money for the 
relief of his family and other Americans who 
were in dire need. The Tennessee was lying 
off the Hook of Holland at that time, and there 
were several of our splendid army oflScers ready 
and eager for any service. One of the best of 
them. Captain Williams, offered himself as 
messenger, and I sent him in to Antwerp, with 
three thousand dollars in gold, on August 24. 
He had a hard, slow journey, but he went 
through and delivered the money. 

The very night, while he was in the city, a 
Zeppelin air-ship, the first of its devilish tribe 
to get into action, sailed over sleeping Antwerp 
dropping bombs. No military damage was 
done. But hundreds of private houses were 
352 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 

damaged and sixty destroyed. One bomb fell 
on a hospital full of wounded Belgians and 
Germans. Scores of innocent civilians, mostly 
women and children, were killed. “In a single 
house,” writes an eye-witness, “I found four 
dead: one room was a chamber of horrors, the 
remains of the mangled bodies being scattered 
in every direction.” 

Mark the exact nature of this crime. The 
dropping of bombs from aircraft is not techni- 
cally illegal. The agreement of the nations to 
abandon and prohibit this method of attack 
for five years unfortunately expired by limita- 
tion of time in 1912 and was not renewed. But 
the old-established rules of war among civilized 
nations have forbidden and still forbid the bom- 
bardment of populous towns without due notice, in 
order that the non-combatants may have a chance 
to find refuge and safety. This German monster 
of the air came unannounced, in the dead of 
night, and, having wrought its hellish surprise, 
vanished into the darkness again. This was a 
crime against international law as well as a 
sin against humanity. 

My captain returned to The Hague the next 
morning, bringing his report. He had seen the 
horror with his own eyes. More: with the 
care of a true officer he had made a map of the 
353 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


course taken by the air-ship in its flight over 
the city. That map showed beyond a doubt 
that the aim of the marauder was to destroy the 
principal hospital, the hotel where the Belgian 
Ministers lived, and the palace in which the King 
and Queen with their children were sleeping, 

I cabled the facts to Washington at once, 
and sent the map with a fuller report the next 
day. I felt deeply (and ventured to express 
my feeling) that the United States could, and 
should, protest against this clear violation 
of the law of nations — this glaring manifesta- 
tion of a spirit which was going to make this 
war the most cruel and atrocious known to 
history. The foreboding of a retimn to bar- 
barism has been fulfilled, alas, only too abom- 
inably ! 

In every step of that downward path Ger- 
many has led the way, by the perfection of 
her scientific methods applied to a devilish 
purpose. 

Take, for example, the use of poisonous gas 
in warfare. This was an ancient weapon, em- 
ployed long before the beginning of the Chris- 
tian era. It had been abandoned by civilized 
nations, and was prohibited by one of the 
Hague conventions, for a period of five years. 
But that period having expired, and the con- 
354 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


vention being only a ‘‘scrap of paper,” Ger- 
many revived the ancient deviltry in a more 
scientific form. On April 22, 1915, she sent 
the yellow clouds of death rolling down upon 
the trenches near Ypres, where the British de- 
fended the last city of outraged Belgium. The 
suffocating horrors of that hellish method of 
attack are beyond description. The fame of 
this achievement of spectacled barbarism be- 
longs to the learned servants of the predatory 
Potsdam gang. Can we blame the Allies if 
they were forced reluctantly to take up the 
same weapon in self-defence ? 

IV 

The real character and the inhuman effect 
of the German invasion were brought home to 
us, and made painfully clear to our eyes and 
our hearts, by the tragic spectacle of the flood 
of refugees pouring out of Belgium. ^ 

It began slowly. When the quaint frontier 
town of Vise, surrounded by its goose-farms, 
was attacked and set on fire on August 4, many 
families from the neighbourhood fled to Hol- 
land. When Liege was captured on the 7th 
after a brave defence, and its last fort fell on 
the 15th, there were more fugitives. When 
Brussels was occupied without resistance on 
355 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


the 20th there were still more. As the invasion 
spread westward and southward, engulfing city 
after city in widening waves of blood, the tide 
of terror and flight rose steadily. It reached 
its high-water mark when Antwerp, after the 
Germans had pounded its circle of forts for 
nine days, was bombarded on October 7 and 
captured on the 18th. 

Nothing like that sad, fear-smitten exodus 
has been seen on earth in modern times. There 
was something in it at once fateful, pathetic, 
and irresistible, which recalled De Quincey’s 
famous story of The Flight of a Tartar Tribe. 
No barrier on the Holland border could have 
kept that flood of Belgian refugees out. They 
were an enormous flock of sheep and lambs, 
harried by the Werwolf and fleeing for their 
lives. 

But Holland did not want a barrier. She 
stood with open doors and arms, offering an 
asylum to the distressed and persecuted. 

I do not believe that any country has ever 
made a better record of wise, steady, and true 
humanitarian work than Holland made in this 
matter. It is not necessary to exaggerate it. 
Naturally, Belgium and Great Britain bore by 
far the largest part of the financial burden of 
caring for the refugees. Regular subsidies were 
356 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


guaranteed for this purpose. But Holland 
gave freely and generously what was more im- 
portant: a prompt and sufficient welcome and 
shelter from the storm; abundant supplies of 
money for immediate needs, food and clothing, 
a roof and a fire; personal aid and care, nurs- 
ing, medical attendance — all of which these be- 
wildered exiles needed desperately and at once. 

This is not the place, nor the time, in which 
to attempt a full report of the humane task 
which was suddenly thrown upon Holland by 
the deadly doings of the German Werwolf in 
Belgium, nor of the way in which that task was 
accepted and carried out. I shall note only a 
few things of which I have personal knowledge. 

Along the railway line which leads to Ant- 
werp, I saw every train literally packed with 
fugitives. They had come, not in organised, 
orderly companies, but in droves — tens of thou- 
sands, hundreds of thousands. They were 
dazed and confused, escaping from they knew 
not what, carried they knew not whither. It 
is well for the poet to say: 

not like dumb, driven cattle^’; 

but what can you do in a case like this except 
take the first open road and run from hell as 
fast as you can? 


357 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


The station platforms were crowded with 
folks in motley garments showing signs of wear 
and tear. Their possessions were done up in 
bags and shapeless bundles, rolled in pieces 
of sacking, old shawls, red-and-white-checkered 
table-cloths. The men, with drawn and heavy 
faces, waited patiently. The women collected 
and watched their restless flocks. The baby 
tugged at its mother’s breast. The little sister 
carried the next-to-baby in her arms. The boys, 
as usual, wandered everywhere undismayed, 
and peered curiously into everything. 

The crowds were not disorderly or turbulent; 
there was no shrieking or groaning. There 
were, of course, some of the baser sort in the 
vast multitude that fled to Holland — street 
rowdies and other sons of Belial from the big 
towns, women of the pavements, and other 
unhappy by-products of our social system. 
How could it be otherwise in a throng of about 
a million, scooped up and cast out by an evil 
chance ? But the great bulk of the people were 
decent and industrious — no more angels than 
the rest of us can show per thousand. 

I remember a very respectable old couple, 
cleanly though plainly clad, waiting at the 
station of a small village, looking in vain for 
a chance to board the train. Everything was 
358 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


full except the compartment reserved for us. 
We opened the door and asked them to get in. 
The old gentleman explained that he was a 
landscape-gardener, living in a small villa with 
a small garden, in a suburb of Antwerp. 

‘Tt was a beautiful garden, monsieur,” he 
said with glistening eyes. ‘Tt was arranged 
with much skill and care. We loved every 
bush, every flower. But one evening three 
German shells fell in it and burst. The good 
wife and I” (here a wan smile) “thought the 
climate no longer sanitary. We ran away that 
night on foot. Much misery for old people. 
Last night we slept in a barn with hundreds 
of others. But some day we go back to restore 
that garden. N'est-ce pas vraiy cherief’ 

Rosendaal, the last Dutch town on the road 
to Antwerp, claims 15,000 inhabitants. In 
two nights at least 40,000 refugees poured into 
that place. Every house from the richest to 
the poorest opened its doors in hospitality. 
The beds and the floors were all filled with 
sleepers. A big vacant factory building was 
fitted with improvised bunks and straw bedding. 
Two thousand five hundred people were lodged 
there. Open-air kitchens were set up. The 
burgomaster and aldermen and doctors and 
all the other “leading citizens” took off their 
359 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


coats and worked. The best women in the 
place were cooking, serving tables, nursing, 
making clothes, doing all they could for their 
involuntary guests. 

In the picturesque old city of Bergen-op- 
Zoom — famous in history — I saw the same thing. 
There a large tent-camp had been set up for 
the overflow from the houses. It was like a 
huge circus of distress. The city hall was turned 
into an emergency storehouse of food: the 
vaulted halls and chambers filled with boxes, 
bags, and barrels. When I went up to the 
bureau of the burgomaster, his wife and daugh- 
ters were there, sewing busily for the refugees. 

I visited the main hospital and the annexes 
which had been established in the schoolhouses. 
Twice, as we climbed the steep stairs, we stood 
aside for stretchers to be carried past. They 
bore the bodies of people who had died from 
exposure and exhaustion. 

In one ward there were a score of the most 
ancient women I have ever seen. They had 
made the flight on foot. God knows how they 
ever did it. One of them was so weak that she 
could not speak, so short of breath that she 
could not lie down. As she sat propped with 
pillows, rocking slowly to and fro and coughing, 
coughing, feebly coughing her life out, she looked 
360 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


a thousand years old. Perhaps she was, if suf- 
fering measures years. 

Another room was for babies born in the 
terror and the flight. A few were well-looking 
enough; but most of them were pitiful scraps 
and tatters of humanity. They were tenderly 
nursed and cared for, but their chance was 
slender. While I was there one of the little 
creatures shuddered, breathed a tiny sigh, and 
slipped out of a world that was too hard for it. 

It was part of my unofficial duty to visit 
as many as possible of the private shelters and 
hospitals and workrooms and the public camps, 
because the Belgian Relief Committee and 
other friends in New York had sent me con- 
siderable sums of money to use in helping the 
refugees. In the careful application of these 
funds I had the advice of Mr. Th. Stuart, Presi- 
dent of the ‘‘Netherlands Relief Committee for 
Belgian and Other Victims of War,’’ and of 
Baron F. van Tuyll van Serooskerken, a friend 
of mine, whom the Queen had appointed as 
General Commissioner to oversee all the public 
refugee camps. 

Three of these, Nunspeet, Ede, and Uden, 
were improvised villages, with blocks of long 
community houses, separate dormitories for the 
unmarried men and for the single women, a 
361 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


dining-hall, a chapel, one or two schoolhouses, 
a recreation-hall, a house of detention for refrac- 
tory persons, one hospital for general cases, 
and another for infectious diseases. It was all 
built of wood, simple and primitive, but as 
comfortable as could be expected imder the 
conditions. The chief danger of the camps was 
idleness. In providing work to combat this 
peril the Rockefeller Foundation and the com- 
mittee of the English ‘‘Society of Friends” 
were of great assistance. Each of these camps 
had accommodation for about 10,000 people. 

The fourth camp was at the ancient city of 
Gouda, famed for its great old church with 
stained-glass windows and for its excellent 
cheese and its clay pipes. This camp was the 
first and one of the most interesting that I 
visited. It was established in a series of ex- 
ceptionally large and fine greenhouses, which 
happened to be empty when the emergency 
came. Somebody — I think it was the clever 
Burgomaster Yssel de Scheppe and his admi- 
rable wife — had the good idea of utilising them 
for the refugees. It seemed a curious notion, to 
raise human plants under glass. But it worked 
well. The houses were long and lofty; they had 
concrete floors and broad concrete platforms 
where the “cubicles” for the separate families 
362 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


could easily be erected; steam heat, electric 
light, hot and cold water were already “laid 
on”; it was quite palatial in its way. A few 
wooden houses, a laundry, a kitchen, a carpen- 
ter-shop for the men, and so on, were quickly 
run up. There was a bowling-alley and a play- 
ground and a schoolhouse. The people could 
go to church in the town. Soon twenty-five 
himdred exiles were living in this queer but 
comfortable camp. 

But it was evident that this refugee life, even 
under the best conditions that could be devised, 
was abnormal. There was not room in the 
industrial life of Holland for all these people 
to stay there permanently. Besides, they did 
not want to stay, and that counts for something 
in human affairs. The question arose whether 
it might not be wise to let them go home. Not 
to send them home, you understand. That 
was never even contemplated. But simply to 
allow them to return to their own country, at 
least in the regions where the fury of war had 
already passed by. I suggested to Mr. Stuart 
that before you allow poor folks to “go home,” 
you ought to know whether they have a “home” 
to go to. So we took my motor in October and 
made a little tour of investigation in Belgium. 

That was a strange and memorable journey. 

363 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

The long run in the dripping autumn afternoon 
along the Antwerp Road, where the miserable 
fugitives were still trudging in thousands; the 
search for lodgings in the stricken city, where 
most of the streets were silent and deserted as 
if the plague had passed there, and the only 
bustling life was in the central quarter, where 
‘‘the field-gray ones” abounded; the closed 
shops, the house-fronts shattered by shells, 
the great cathedral standing in the moonlight, 
unharmed as far as we could see, except for 
one shell which had penetrated the south tran- 
sept, just where Rubens’s “Descent from the 
Cross” used to hang before it was carried away 
for safety — I shall never forget those impres- 
sions. 

The next morning, provided with permits 
which the German Military Commandant had 
given us, we set out on our tour. The journey 
became still more strange. The beautiful trees 
of the suburbs were razed to the ground, the 
little villas stood empty, many of them half- 
ruined. (Perhaps one of them belonged to our 
friend the landscape-gardener.) We could see 
clearly the emplacements for the big German 
guns, which had been secretly laid long before 
the war began, concealed in cellars and beneath 
innocent-looking tennis-courts. The ring-forts 
364 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


surrounding Antwerp were knocked to pieces, 
their huge concrete gateways, their stone fac- 
ings, their high earthworks, all battered out 
of shape. 

Town after town through which we passed lay 
half-destroyed or in complete ruins. Wavre, 
Waelhem, Termonde, Duffel, Lierre, and many 
smaller places were in various stages of de- 
struction, burned or shattered by shell fire and 
explosives. The heaps of bricks and stones 
encumbered the streets so that it was hard to 
pick our way through. The smell of decaying 
bodies tainted the air. The fields had been 
inundated in the valleys; the water was sub- 
siding; here and there corpses lay in the mud. 
Old trenches everywhere; thousands of. rudely 
heaped graves, marked by two crossed sticks; 
miles on miles of rusty barbed-wire defences, 
with dead cows or horses entangled in them, 
slowly rotting, haunted by the carrion crows. 

Yet there were some people in the country- 
side. Now and then we saw a woman or an 
old man digging in field or garden. We stopped 
at the front yard of a little farmhouse, where 
the farmer’s wife stood, and asked her some di- 
rections about the road. She gave them cheer- 
fully, though the house at her back was little 
more than a mass of ruins. 

365 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


‘‘Were you here in the fighting?” we asked. 

“But no, messieurs,” she answered with a 
short laugh. “If I had been here^ I should not 
be here, I ran away to Holland and returned 
yesterday to my house. . But how shall I creep 
in?” She pointed over her shoulder to the 
pile of bricks. “I am not a cat or a rat.” 

They are indomitable, those Flemish people. 
At Lierre we were very hungry and searched 
vainly for an inn or a grocery. At last in one 
of the streets we saw a little baker-shop. The 
upper story was riddled and broken. But the 
shop was untouched, the window-shade half 
up, and underneath we could see two loaves 
of bread. We went in. The bare-armed baker 
met us. 

“Can you sell us a little bread?” 

“But certainly, messieurs, that is what I am 
here for. Not the window loaves, however; I 
have a fresh loaf, if you please. Also a little 
cheese, if you will.” 

“Were you here in the fighting?” 

“Assuredly not! It was impossible. But I 
hurried back aftet three days. You see, mes- 
sieurs, some people were returning, and me — I 
am the Baker of Lierre,'"^ He said it as if it were 
a title of nobility. 

At Malines (Mechelen) the devastation ap- 
366 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


peared perhaps more shocking because we had 
known the russet and gray old city so well in 
peaceful years. Many of the streets were im- 
passable, choked with debris. One side of the 
great Square was knocked to fragments. The 
huge belfry. Saint Rombaud’s Tower, wherein 
hangs the famous carillon of more than thirty 
bells, was battered but still stood firm. The 
vast cathedral was a melancholy wreck of its 
former beauty and grandeur. The roof was 
but a skeleton of bare rafters; the side wall 
pierced with gaping rents and holes; the pic- 
tured windows were gone; the sunlight streamed 
in everywhere upon the stone fioor, strewn with 
an indescribable confusion of shattered glass, 
fallen beams, fragments of carved wood, and 
broken images of saints. 

A little house behind the Church of Saint 
Peter and Saint Paul, the roof and upper story 
of which had been pierced by shells, seemed to 
be occupied. We knocked and went in. The 
man and his wife were in the sitting-room, try- 
ing to put it in order. Much of the furniture 
was destroyed; the walls were pitted with 
shrapnel-scars, but the cheap ornaments on 
the mantel were unbroken. In the ceiling was 
a big hole, and in the fioor a pit in which lay 
the head and fragments of a German shell. I 
367 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


asked if I might have them. “Certainly/’ 
answered the man. “We wish to keep no sou- 
venirs of that wicked thing.” 


V 

I do not propose to describe the magnificent 
work of the “Commission for Relief in Bel- 
gium.” It is too well known. Besides, it is 
not my story; it is the story of Herbert Hoover, 
who made the idea a reality, and of the crew 
of fine and fearless young Americans who worked 
with him. England and France furnished more 
money to buy food; but the United States, in 
addition to money and wheat, gave the organisa- 
tion, the personal energy and toil and tact, the 
assurance of fair play and honest dealing, with- 
out which that food could never have gotten 
into Belgium or been distributed only to the 
civil population. 

Holland was the door through which all the 
supplies for the C. R. B. had to pass. The 
first two cargoes that went in I had to put 
through personally, and nearly had to fight 
to do it. My job was to keep the back of the 
United States against that door and hold it 
open. It was not always easy. I was obliged 
to make protests, remonstrances, and polite 
368 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 

suggestions about what would happen if cer- 
tain things were not done. 

Once the Germans refused to give any more 
‘‘safe-conduct passes” for relief ships on the 
return voyage. Of course, that would have 
made the work impossible. A German aircraft 
bombed one of these ships. I put the matter 
mildly but firmly to the German Minister. 
“This work is in your interest. It relieves you 
from the burden of feeding a lot of people whom 
you would otherwise be bound to feed. You 
want it to go on.^” “Yes, certainly, by all 
means.” “Well, then, you will have to stop 
attacking the C. R. B. ships or else the work 
will have to stop. The case is very simple. 
There is only one thing to do.” He promised 
to take the matter up with Berlin at once. In 
a couple of days the answer came: “Very sorry. 
Regrettable mistake. Aviator could not see 
markings on side and stern of ship. Advise 
large horizontal signs painted on top deck of 
ships, visible from above. Safe-conducts will 
be granted.” 

When this was told to Captain White, a 
clever Yankee sea-captain who had general 
charge of the C. R. B. shipping, he laughed 
considerably and then said: “Why, look-a- 
here. I’ll paint those boats all over, top, sides, 
369 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


and bottom, if that’ll only keep the Ger- 

mans from sinkin’ ’em.” 

From a million and a half to two million men, 
women, and children in Belgium and northern 
France were saved from starving to death by 
the work of the C. R. B. The men who were 
doing it had a chance to observe the conditions 
in those invaded countries. They came to the 
Legation at The Hague and told simply what 
they knew. We got the real story of Miss 
Cavell, cruelly done to death by ‘‘field-gray” 
officers. We got full descriptions of the system 
of deporting the civil population — a system 
which amounted to enslavement, with a taint 
of “white slavery” thrown in. When the Bel- 
gian workmen were suddenly called from their 
homes, herded before the German commandant, 
and sent away, they knew not whither, to work 
for their oppressor, as they were entrained they 
sang the “Marseillaise.” They knew they 
would be punished for it, kept without food, 
put to the hardest labour. But they sang it. 
They knew that France, and England too, were 
fighting for them, for their rights, for their lib- 
erty. They believed that it would come. They 
were not conquered yet. 

Here I must leave this part of my story. It 
has not been well told. Words cannot render 
370 


THE WERWOLF AT LARGE 


the impression of black horror that lay upon 
us, the fierce indignation that stirred us, during 
all those months while we were doing the tasks 
of peace in peaceful Holland. 

We were bound to be neutral in conduct. 
That was the condition of our service to the 
wounded, the prisoners, the refugees, the suf- 
ferers, of both sides. We lived up to that con- 
dition at The Hague without di single criticism 
from anybody — except the subsidised German- 
American press, whose hatred I regarded as a 
personal compliment. 

But to be neutral in thought and feeling — 
ah, that was beyond my power. I knew that 
the predatory Potsdam gang had chosen and 
forced the war in order to realise their robber- 
dream of Pan-Germanism. I knew that they 
were pushing it with unheard-of atrocity in 
Belgium and northern France, in Poland and 
Servia and Armenia. I knew that they had 
challenged and attacked the whole world of 
peace-loving nations. I knew that America 
belonged to that imperilled world. I knew 
that there could be no secure labour and no 
quiet sleep in any land so long as the Potsdam 
Werwolf was at large. 


371 


IV 

GERMANIA MENDAX 
I 

npHE truth about the choosing, beginning, 
and forcing of this abominable war has 
never been told by official Germandom. 

Now and then an independent German like 
Maximilian Harden is brave enough to blurt 
it out: ‘‘Of what use are weak excuses? We 
willed this war, . . . willed it because we were 
sure we could win it.” {Zukunft, August, 1914.) 
But in general the official spokesmen of Ger- 
many keep up the claim that their country was 
attacked and forced to fly to arms to protect 
herself. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Imperial Chancellor 
to the members of the Reichstag on August 
4, 1914, “we are now acting in self-defence. 
Necessity knows no law. Our troops have 
occupied Luxembourg and have possibly al- 
ready entered on Belgian soil. [A little earlier 
in the speech he confessed that they had also 
invaded France.] Gentlemen, that is a breach 
372 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


of international law. The French Govern- 
ment has notified Brussels that it would respect 
Belgian neutrality as long as the adversary 
respected it. But we know that France stood 
ready for an invasion. France could wait. We 
could not. . . . The injustice we commit — I 
speak openly — we will try to make good as 
soon as our military aims have been attained. 
He who is menaced as we are, and is fighting 
for his all, can only consider the one and best 
way to strike.” * (The word which Herr von 
Bethmann-Hollweg actually used was durch- 
haueriy which means ‘‘to hew, or hack, a way 
through.”) 

It was against such weak excuses as this, 
against the vain pretext that the German war- 
lords were the attacked instead of the attackers, 
that Herr Harden made the frank protest which 
I have quoted above. 

Meantime the falsehood of the tales of French 
preparation for invasion and of actual viola- 
tions of German territory has been exposed 
by the evidence of Germans themselves. Gen- 
eral Freytag-Loringhoven, in his essay on “The 
First Victories in the West,” has shown that 


* Out of several translations of this speech I have chosen as the 
fairest the one printed by the American Association for International 
Conciliation, November, 1914, No. 84. 

373 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


the French high command was taken off its 
guard by the swift stab through Luxembourg 
and Belgium, and could not get the Fifth Army 
Corps to the Douai-Charleroi line until August 
22. The municipal authorities of Nuremberg 
have declared that they have no knowledge of 
the dropping of bombs on that city by French 
aviators. 

The hollowness of the Chancellor’s promise 
that Germany would "‘make good her injustice” 
to Belgium after attaining her military aims is 
foreshadowed to-day (September 27, 1917). The 
newspapers of this morning contain a semi- 
official press statement in regard to a note verbale 
handed by the Foreign Secretary to the Papal 
Nuncio at Berlin. Germany, if this statement 
is correct, now proposes to spoil the future of 
Belgium by splitting the nation into two ad- 
ministrative districts, Flemish and Walloon, 
thus injecting the poison-germ of disunion into 
the body politic. She also demands “the right 
to develop her economic interests freely in Bel- 
gium, especially in Antwerp,'^ and a guarantee 
that “any such menace as that which threat- 
ened Germany [from Belgium !] in 1914 shall 
be excluded.” This is the German idea of mak- 
ing good an injustice — ^by committing a fresh 
injury. It is in the style of a highwayman who 
374 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


says to his victim: ‘‘I will reward you by letting 
you go. But I must keep the big pearl, and 
you must permit me to break both your arms.” * 
Somewhere I have read a Latin line — the 
name of whose author has slipped my memory 
— which seems to fit the case perfectly: Quid- 
quid non audet in historia Germania mendaxV^ f 

* For further confirmation of these ideas see the Memoir of the late 
General von Bissing, former Governor-General of Belgium, published 
by the Bergisch-Markische Zeitung, May 18, 1917, and by Das Grdssere 
Deutschland^ May 19, 1917. 

“History now shows us that, neither prior to, nor at the outset of 
hostilities, were people able to rely to any great extent on a neutral 
Belgium, and, should we attach a certain importance to these historic 
truths, we shall not, however, on the conclusion of peace, suffer our- 
selves to allow of the revival of Belgium as a neutral state and country. 
An independent or neutral Belgium, or a Belgium whose status would 
be fixed by treaties of another kind, will be, as before the war, under 
the inauspicious influence of England and France, as well as the prey 
of America, who is seeking to utilize Belgian securities. There is only 
one way to prevent this, viz. : by the policy of force, and it is force that 
should achieve the result that the population, at present still hostile, 
should become used to German rule and submit to it. Moreover, it 
will be necessary, through a peace assuring us the annexation of Bel- 
gium, that we should be able to protect, as we are now compelled to do, 
the German subjects who have settled in this country, and the protec- 
tion we shall be enabled to afford them will be of special service to us 
in the struggle about to take place in the world’s market. It is only 
by reigning over Belgium that we shall be able to utilize {verwerten), 
with a view to German interests, Belgian capital in savings and the 
numerous Belgian joint-stock companies already existing in enemy 
countries. We ought to have control over the important enterprises that 
Belgian capital has founded in Turkey, the Balkans, and China. . . .” 

1 1 have taken the references which follow, as far as possible, from 
Official Diplomatic Documents, edited by E. von Mach, The Macmillan 
Co., New York, 1916. The comments and footnotes in this volume are 
untrustworthy, but the texts are presumably correct, and it is polite 
to judge the Germans from their own mouths. The book is quoted as 
Off. Dip. Doc. 


375 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


II 

THE AUSTRIAN ULTIMATUM TO SERVIA 

In the latter part of 1916 the New York Times 
published an admirable series of articles, signed 
‘‘Cosmos,” on The Basis of Durable Peace* 
With almost every statement of this learned 
and able writer I found myself in thorough 
accord. But the fourth sentence of the first 
article I could not accept. 

“The question as to who or what power,” 
writes Cosmos, “is chiefly responsible for the 
last events that immediately preceded the war 
has become for the moment one of merely his- 
torical interest.” 

On the contrary, it seems to me a question 
of immediate, vital, permanent interest. It cer- 
tainly determined the national action of France, 
Great Britain, and Italy. They did not be- 
lieve that Germany and Austria were acting 
in self-defence. If that had been the case, Italy 
at least would have been bound by treaty to 
come to the aid of her partners in the Triple 
Alliance, which was purely a defensive league. 
But she formally declined to do so, on the ground 
that “the war undertaken by Austria, and the 
consequences which might result, had, in the 

* These articles are published in book form by the Scribners. 

376 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


words of the German Ambassador himself, a 
directly aggressive object.” (Off. Dip, Doc,, p. 
431 .) The same ground was taken in the mes- 
sage of the President of the French Republic 
to the Parliament on August 4 , 1914 {Off, Dip, 
Doc,, p. 444 ), and in the speech of the British 
Prime Minister, August 6, the day on which 
the Parliament passed the first appropriation 
for expenses arising out of the existence of a 
state of war {British Blue Booh), 

The conviction that the ruling militaristic 
party in Germany, abetted by Austria, bears 
the moral guilt of thrusting this war upon the 
world as the method of settling international 
difficulties which could have been better settled 
by arbitration or conference, is a very real thing 
at the present moment. It is shared by the 
Entente Allies and the United States. It is one 
of those ‘‘imponderables” which, as Bismarck 
said long ago, must never be left out of account 
in estimating national forces. It will hold the 
Allies and the United States together. It will 
help them to win the war for peace under con- 
ditions for Germany which may not be “puni- 
tive,” but which certainly must be reformatory. 

Understand, I do not imagine or maintain 
that the primary or efficient causes of this war 
are to be found in any things that happened 
377 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


in 1914 or 1913. They are inherent in false 
methods of government, in false systems of 
so-called national policy, in false dealing with 
simple human rights and interests, in false at- 
tempts to settle natural problems on an arti- 
ficial basis. 

All nations have a share in them. They go 
back to Austria’s annexation of Bosnia and 
Herzegovina in 1908; to the Congress of Berlin 
in 1878; to the Franco-Prussian War in 1870; 
to the Prusso-Austrian War in 1866; to the 
conquest of Constantinople by the Turks in 
1453. Yes, they go back further still, if you 
like, to the time when Cain killed Abel ! That 
was the first assertion of the doctrine that 
‘‘might makes right.” 

But the occasional cause of this war, the 
ground on which it was brought to a head and 
let loose by Germany, was the Austrian ulti- 
matum to Servia, presented on July 23, 1914, 
at 6 p. M. 

This remarkable state paper, so harsh in its 
tone, so imperious in its demands, that it called 
forth the disapproval even of a few bold Ger- 
man critics, was apparently meant to be im- 
possible of acceptance by Servia, and thus to 
serve either as the instrument for crushing the 
little country which stood in the way of the 
378 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


Berlin-BagJidad-Bahn, or as a torch to kindle 
the great war in Europe. I do not propose to 
trace its history and consequences in detail. I 
propose only to show, by fuller proofs than 
have hitherto been available, that Germany 
must share the responsibility for this flagitious 
and incendiary document. 

On July 25, 1914, the German Ambassador 
at Petrograd handed an oflBcial note verhale to 
the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs which 
stated that ''The German Government had no 
knowledge of the text of the Austrian note before 
it was presented^ and exercised no influence upon 
its contents'^ {Off. Dip. Doc.^ p. 173.) Similar 
communications were presented in France and 
England. 

This barefaced denial that the German Gov- 
ernment knew what would be in the Austrian 
ultimatum, or had anything to do with the 
framing of it, was a palpable falsehood. It 
was discredited at the time. The antecedent 
incredibility of the statement has been well 
set forth by Mr. James N. Beck, in his vigorous 
book. The Evidence in the Case.* New evidence 
has come in. I intend here to present briefly 
and arrange in a new order the facts which 
prove to a moral certainty that the German 

* The Evidence in the Case, Putnams, New York, 1914, pp. 31-46. 

379 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


Government knew beforehand what the con- 
tent and intent of the Austrian ultimatum would 
be, and what consequences it would probably 
entail. 

(1) Austria was the most intimate ally of 
Germany, admittedly dependent upon her big 
friend for backing in all international affairs. 
The German Ambassador in Vienna, Herr von 
Tschirsky, and the Austrian Ambassador in 
Berlin, Count Szogyeny, were in close con- 
sultation with the Governments to which they 
were accredited during the weeks that followed 
the crime of Serajevo, June 28-July 23. It is 
absolutely incredible that Austria should not 
have consulted her big friend in regard to the 
momentous step against Servia, altogether im- 
possible that Germany should not have in- 
sisted upon knowing what her smaller friend 
was doing in a matter of such importance to 
them both. You might as well imagine that 
the board of managers of a subsidiary railway 
would block out a new policy without consult- 
ing the directors of the main line. 

(2) On July 5, 1914, it appears that a secret 
conference was held at Potsdam at which high 
oflScials of the German and Austrian Govern- 
ments were present. It is not possible to give 
their names with certainty — not yet, perhaps 

380 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


never — because these gentlemen come and go 
in the dark. But the fact of the meeting was 
brought out publicly in the speech of Deputy 
Haase in the Reichstag, July 19, 1917, and not 
contradicted. Whatever may have been the 
ostensible object of this conference, it is impos- 
sible to believe that the most important affairs 
in the world for Austria and Germany at that 
moment, namely the nature of the ultimatum 
to Servia and the possible eventuality of a Eu- 
ropean war, were not discussed, and perhaps 
decided. 

(3) On July 15, 1914, the Italian Ambassador 
to Turkey, Signor Garroni, had an interview 
with the German Ambassador to Turkey, Baron 
Wangenheim, who had just come back from 
a visit to Berlin. The German diplomat said 
that he had been present at a conference where 
it had been decided that the ultimatum to Ser- 
via was to be made of such a nature that it 
could not be accepted, and that this would be 
the provocation of the war which would prob- 
ably ensue. Shortly afterward these state- 
ments were narrated by Signor Garroni to Mr. 
Lewis Einstein, attache of the American Em- 
bassy at Constantinople, who carefully noted 
them in his diary. 

(4) On July 22, 1914, the British Ambas- 

381 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


sador in Berlin sent a despatch to his Govern- 
ment which indicated for the first time clearly 
the attitude which the German Government 
had decided to take. I therefore quote it in full. 

‘‘Last night I met Secretary of State for 
Foreign Affairs, and the forthcoming Austrian 
demarche at Belgrade was alluded to by his 
Excellency in the conversation that ensued. 
His Excellency was evidently of opinion that 
this step on Austria’s part would have been 
made ere this. He insisted that the question 
at issue was one for settlement between Servia 
and Austria alone, and that there should he no 
interference from outside in the discussions be- 
tween those two countries. He had therefore 
considered it inadvisable that the Austro-Hun- 
garian Government should be approached by 
the German Government on the matter. He 
had, however, on several occasions, in conversa- 
tion with the Servian Minister, emphasised the 
extreme importance that Austro-Servian rela- 
tions should be put on a proper footing. 

“Finally, his Excellency observed to me that 
for a long time past the attitude adopted toward 
Servia by Austria had, in his opinion, been one 
of great forbearance.” {Off, Dip, Doc,y p. 56.) 

This shows that Germany knew what Aus- 
tria was doing, approved her plan, and had 
382 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


resolved that there ‘‘should be no interference 
from outside in the discussion” — in other words, 
Germany would allow no other nation to pre- 
vent Austria from doing what she liked to 
Servia. Could Germany have taken this ab- 
solutely “committal” position if she had been 
ignorant of what Austria intended to do? 

(5) On July 23, 1914, the crushing Austrian 
ultimatum, having been prepared in the dark, 
was sent to Servia and delivered in Belgrade 
at 6 p. M. On the same day, and almost cer- 
tainly at an earlier hour, the German Chancel- 
lor prepared a circular confidential telegram to 
the Ambassadors at Paris, London, and Petro- 
grad, instructing them to tell the Governments 
to which they were accredited that action 
as well as the demands of the Austro-Hungarian 
Government can he viewed only as justifiable, 
... [If the demands were refused] nothing 
would remain for it, but to enforce the same by 
appeal to military measures, in regard to which 
the choice of means must be left to it.'' {Off. Dip. 
Doc., p. 60.) 

Is it credible that the German Government 
would have pronounced a judgment so im- 
portant, so far-reaching in its foreseen con- 
sequences, if it had had no previous knowledge 
of the “action and demands” of Austria? 

383 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


(6) On July 23, 1914, the French Minister 
at Munich telegraphed his Government as 
follows: ‘‘The President of the Council said 
to me to-day that the Austrian ultimatum, 
the contents of which were known to him, seemed 
to him couched in terms which Servia could 
accept, but that, nevertheless, the actual situa- 
tion appeared to him serious.” {Off, Dip, Doc,, 
p. 59.) 

How did this gentleman in Munich come 
to know about the ultimatum, while the gentle- 
men in Berlin professed ignorance ? 

(7) On July 25, 1914, the Russian Govern- 
ment was oflScially informed that: Germany 
as the ally of Austria naturally supports the claims 
made by the Vienna Cabinet against Servia, which 
she considers justified,^^ {Off, Dip, Doc,, p. 173.) 

This was a very grave declaration, in view 
of the public announcement which the Rus- 
sian Government had made on the same day: 
“Recent events and the despatch of an ulti- 
matum to Servia by Austria-Hungary are 
causing the Russian Government the greatest 
anxiety. The Government are closely follow- 
ing the course of the dispute between the two 
countries, to which Russia cannot remain in-- 
differenV^ {Off, Dip, Doc,, p. 170.) 

Certainly Germany would not have come to 
384 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


the serious decision of giving unqualified sup- 
port to the claims of Austria as against the 
expressed interests of Russia, unless she had 
long known and had full time to consider those 
claims and what they would involve. 

(8) On July 30, 1914, the British Ambas- 
sador in Vienna telegraphed to his Govern- 
ment: ‘‘I have private information that the 
German Ambassador knew the text of the Aus- 
trian ultimatum to Servia before it was des- 
patched, and telegraphed it to the German 
Emperor. I know from the German Ambas- 
sador himself that he indorses every line of 
it.” (Off, Dip. Doc,, p. 330.) 

(9) Count Bemstorff, German Ambassador 
at Washington, published an article in The 
Independent, New York, September 7, 1914. 
In this article he answered, officially, several 
questions. The first question was: Did Ger- 
many approve in advance the Austrian ulti- 
matum to Servia? The answer was: ‘^Yes. 
Germany's reasons for doing so are the follow^ 
ing, 

(10) The German Government has itself ac- 
knowledged that it was consulted by Austria 
in regard to the attitude to be taken toward 
Servia, and the possibility of ensuing war if 
Russia intervened to protect the life of her 

385 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


little sister state. Germany accepted the re- 
sponsibility and pledged support. ‘‘With all 
our heart we were able to agree with our atly's 
estimate of the situation, and assure him that any 
action considered necessary to end the movement 
directed against the conservation of the monarchy 
would meet with our approvaU* {German Of- 
ficial White Book, p. 4; Off. Dip. Doc., p. 551.) 

This is a carte blanche of a kind which no 
great government could possibly give to an- 
other without a definite understanding of what 
it involved. 

Here the summary of the evidence that Aus- 
tria was not playing “a lone hand” ends — ^at 
least until further confidential documents and 
information about secret meetings are dug up. 

Meantime the Imperial German Govern- 
ment maintains its plea of “not guilty.” It 
still denies all previous knowledge of, and all part 
in, the nefarious Austrian ultimatum to Ser- 
via which precipitated the world war. (1917). 

The denial is both impudent and mendacious. 

Ill 

THE RUSSIAN MOBILISATION 

It has been loudly asserted and persistently 
maintained by the Potsdam gang that the cause 
386 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


of this abominable war was the mobilisation 
of Russia in preparation to maintain the sover- 
eignty of her little sister state Servia if neces- 
sary. ‘‘Germany/’ it is said, “earnestly de- 
sired, from the purest of motives, to ‘localise 
the conflict’ ” — ^which means in plain words to 
let Austria deal with Servia as she liked, with- 
out interference — ^rather a one-sided proposi- 
tion, considering the relative size of the two 
parties in the benevolently urged single combat. 
“But Russia rashly interfered with this beau- 
tiful design by declaring that she could not 
remain indifferent to the fate of a small nation 
of kindred blood, and by calling up troops to 
prevent any wiping out of Servia by Austria, 
to whom Germany had already given carte 
hlanche and promised full support. This was 
a wicked threat against the life and liberty of 
Germany. This was an action which rendered 
the great war inevitable.” So say the German 
authorities. 

The subtitle of the oflBcial German White 
Booh reads: ^'How Russia and Her Ruler Be- 
trayed Germany's Confidence and Thereby Made 
the European War/^ * 

* I quote from a copy of the original pamphlet, given to me with 
the compliments of Herr von MUller, German Minister at The Hague. 
Professor von Mach in his Ojf. Dip. Doc. does not reproduce this title- 
page. 


387 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


This is the Potsdam contention in regard to 
the cause of the war. The documents indicate 
that it is a false contention, based upon sup- 
pression of the truth. This is what I intend 
to show. 

I hold no brief for the late Imperial Russian 
Government. Doubtless it was shady in its 
morals and tricky in its ways. 

The telegrams recently discovered by an ex- 
cellent American journalist, Mr. Herman Bern- 
stein, and published in the New York Herald^ 
show that the late Czar Nicolas and the still 
Kaiser Wilhelm were plotting together, a very 
few years ago, to make a secret ‘‘combine” 
which should control the world. When that 
plan failed, no doubt the vast power and re- 
sources of Russia, under an absolute imperial 
Government, were regarded by the equally 
autocratic Government of Germany with jeal- 
ousy and distrust, not to say fear. No doubt 
Russia was an actual and formidable obstacle 
to the Pan-German purpose of getting Servia 
out of the path of the Berlin-Baghdad-Bahn. 

Grant all this. Pass over, also, the inter- 
minable and inextricable dispute about the 
precise meaning and application of the terms 
“mobilisation,” “partial mobilisation,” “com- 
plete mobilisation,” “precautionary measures,” 
388 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


Kriegsgefahr,^^ and so on. That is an un- 
fathomable morass wherein many deceptions 
hide. In that controversy each opponent al- 
ways charges the other with lying, and a wise 
neutral believes both. 

It seems to be true — ^mark you, I only say 
it seems — that the first great European Power 
to order partial mobilisation was Austria, July 
26, 1914. (Off. Dip. Doc., p. 197.) On July 28 
the order for complete mobilisation was signed, 
war was declared against Servia (pp. 272, 273), 
and on July 29 Belgrade was bombarded (p. 
354). 

On July 29 Russia ordered partial mobilisa- 
tion in the districts of Odessa, Kief, Moscow, 
and Kasan, and declared that she had no ag- 
gressive intention against Germany. (Off. Dip. 
Doc., p. 294.) The Russian preparations ob- 
viously had relation only to Austria’s war on 
Servia which was already under way. 

On July 30 Germany had perfected her “cov- 
ering dispositions” of troops along the French 
border, from Luxembourg to the Vosges, part 
of which by chance I saw in June (seep. 320 jf.), 
and on the same day the Berlin semi-official 
press announced that a complete mobilisation 
had been ordered. (Off. Dip. Doc., pp. 324, 
342.) This announcement was contradicted 
389 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


and withdrawn later on the same day by gov- 
ernment orders. 

On July 31, at 1 a, m., the Austrian order 
of complete mobilisation, which was signed on 
the 28th, was issued, {Off. Dip. Doc.^ p. 356.) 
Later in the same day the Russian Government 
ordered complete mobilisation and the German 
Government proclaimed a state of Kriegsgefahry 
“war-danger.’’ {Off. Dip. Doc.y pp. 356-357.) 
•At seven o’clock in the evening of the same 
day Germany sent an ultimatum to France, 
and at midnight an ultimatum to Russia. 

On August 1 she declared war on Russia, and 
on August 3 she declared war on France, hav- 
ing previously invaded French territory and 
sent her army through neutral Luxembourg. 

Now in all this the German Government tries 
to make it appear that it was simply acting on 
the defensive, taking necessary steps to guard 
against the peril threatened by the military 
measures of Russia. 

The falsity of this pretence is easily shown 
from two facts: First, the Russian Govern- 
ment was all the time pleading for a peaceful 
settlement of the Austro-Servian dispute, by 
arbitration, or by a four-power conference. 
Second, definite offers were made to halt the 
Russian military measures at once on condi- 
tions most favourable to Austria, if Austria and 
390 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


Germany would agree to an examination by 
the Great Powers of Austria’s just claims on 
Servia. 

On the first point, I do not propose to retell 
the long story of the efforts supported by France, 
England, Italy, and Russia herself, to get Ger- 
many to consent to some plan, any plan, which 
might avert war by an appeal to reason and 
justice. To these efforts Germany answered in 
effect that she could not ‘‘coerce” her ally Aus- 
tria. 

But one document in this line seems to me 
particularly interesting — even pathetic. It is 
a telegram sent by the late Czar Nicolas to his 
Imperial cousin, Kaiser Wilhelm. It is dated 
July 29, 1914, and reads as follows: 

“Thanks for your telegram which is con- 
ciliatory and friendly, whereas the ojEcial mes- 
sage presented to-day by your Ambassador to 
my Minister was conveyed in a very different 
tone. I beg you to explain this divergency. 
It would he right to give over the Austro-Servian 
'problem to The Hague TribunaL I trust in your 
'wisdom and friendship. “Nicolas” 

This telegram is not contained in the German 
White Book. But Professor von Mach gives it 
in his Official Diplomatic Documents (p. 596). 

391 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


I have been unable to find in any book, 
pamphlet, or collection of papers a trace of 
the Kaiser’s answer. Probably he did not send 
one. 

On the second point I propose to quote only 
the three definite proposals which were before 
the German Government on July 31, 1914. 

Sir Edward Grey, the British Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs, had been trying, with the cor- 
dial help of the Russian Foreign Minister, 
Sazonof, and the President of the Council of 
France, M. Viviani, to formulate a plan of avert- 
ing general hostilities which would meet the 
approval of Germany. 

(1) On July 29 Sir E. Grey had an official 
conversation with the German Ambassador in 
London and laid before him a proposal in re- 
gard to the halting of military measures, de- 
scribed in the following words: 

‘Tt was of course too late for all military 
operations against Servia to be suspended. In 
a short time, I supposed, the Austrian forces 
would be in Belgrade, and in occupation of 
some Servian territory. But even then it might 
be possible to bring some mediation into existence 
if Austria^ while saying that she must hold the 
occupied territory until she had complete satis- 
faction from Serviay stated that she would not ad- 
392 


GERMANIA MENDAX 


vance further^ pending an effort of the Powers to 
mediate between her and Russia.^ ^ {Off* Dip. 
Doc.y p. 307.) This proposal was telegraphed 
to Berlin on the same day, and from there to 
Vienna. So far as I know no answer to it was 
ever received, though King George V warmly 
supported the proposal in a personal telegram 
(July 30) to Prince Henry of Prussia, and begged 
him to urge it upon the Kaiser. 

(2) On July 30 Sazonof, in the name of the 
Czar, presented to the German Ambassador at 
Petrograd, and telegraphed for delivery to the 
Foreign Offices at Berlin and Vienna, the fol- 
lowing proposal: 

“If Austria, recognising that the Austro- 
Servian question has assumed the character 
of a question of European interest, declares 
herself ready to eliminate from her ultimatum 
points which violate the sovereign rights of 
Servia, Russia undertakes to stop her military 
preparations^ {Off. Dip. Doc.^ p. 341.) 

The German Foreign Minister von Jagow, 
without waiting to consult Vienna, replied 
“that he considered it impossible for Austria 
to accept the proposal.” {Ibid., p. 342.) Aus- 
tria said nothing at all ! 

(3) On July 31 practically the same pro- 
posal, modified on the suggestion of Sir E. 

393 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


Grey and M. Viviani, was renewed by Russia. 
As presented to Berlin and Vienna it read as 
follows: 

“If Austria consents to stay the march of her 
troops on Servian territory; and ify recognising 
that the Austro-Servian conflict has assumed the 
character of a question of European interest, she 
admits that the Great Powers may examine the 
satisfaction which Servia can accord to the Austro- 
Hungarian Government without injury to her 
rights as a sovereign State or her independence, 
Russia undertakes to maintain her expectant atti- 
tude.’" (Off. Dip. Doc., p. 370.) 

No answer from Austria, who had ordered 
a general mobilisation at one o’clock in the 
morning of that day ! 

No answer from Germany, except the prompt 
proclamation of Kriegsgefahr, and the declara- 
tion of war on Russia on August 1 ! 

Thus three successive opportunities of putting 
a stop to further military preparations of Rus- 
sia on the simple condition that Austria would 
go no further, but be content with what she 
already had occupied as a guarantee for repara- 
tion from Servia — three golden occasions of 
preserving the peace of Europe — ^were brushed 
aside by Germany practically without con- 
sideration. 


394 


GERMANIA M:ENDAX 


Yet the marvellous people at Potsdam go 
on saying that it was the Russian military 
preparation that brought this war down on 
the world ! — that Germany always wanted 
peace, and worked for it ! 

Why then did she not accept the proffered 
chance of staying the progress of Russian prep- 
arations when it lay within her power to do 
so by lifting a finger ? 

Because she did not wish the chance. Be- 
cause she wished Austria to go on with the sub- 
jugation of Servia. Because she wished Russia 
to be forced to go on with her measures to in- 
tervene for the rescue of Servia from extinc- 
tion. Because she wished herself to go on with 
her design of putting her own incomparable 
military machine at work to force her will on 
Europe. Because she wished to have a false 
excuse to cover her own guilt in making the 
war by saying: ^‘Russia did it.” 

The Potsdam gang forgot one thing. (Most 
liars forget something.) They forgot that by 
refusing the opportunity for peaceful settle- 
ment which would have removed their excuse 
for making war, they would furnish the proof 
that their excuse was false. 


395 


V 


A DIALOGUE ON PEACE BETWEEN A 
HOUSEHOLDER AND A BURGLAR 

A HALF-TOLD TALE OF 1917 

rflHE house was badly wrecked by the struggle 
^ which had raged through it. The walls 
were marred, the windows and mirrors shattered, 
the pictures ruined, the furniture smashed into 
kindling-wood. 

Worst of all, the faithful servants and some 
of the children were lying in dark comers, dead 
or grievously wounded. 

The Burglar who had wrought the damage 
sat in the middle of the dining-room floor, with 
his swag around him. It was neatly arranged 
in bags, for in spite of his madness he was a 
most methodical man. One bag was labelled 
silverware; another, jewels; another, cash; and 
another, souvenirs. There was blood on his 
hands and a fatuous smile on his face. 

‘‘Surely I am a mighty man,’’ he said to him- 
self, “and I have proved it! But I am very 
tired, as well as kind-hearted, and I feel that it 
is now time to begin a Conversation on Peace.” 

The Householder, who was also something 
396 


A DIALOGUE ON PEACE 


of a Pacifist on appropriate occasions, but never 
a blind one, stood near. Through the brief 
lull in the rampage he overheard the mutter- 
ings of the Burglar. 

‘‘Were you speaking to me?” he asked. 

“As a matter of fact,” answered the Burglar, 
“I was talking to myself. But it is the same 
thing. Are we not brothers ? Do we not both 
love Peace? Come sit beside me, and let us 
talk about it.” 

“What do you mean by Peace,” said the 
Householder, looking grimly around him; “do 
you mean all this ? ” 

“No, no,” said the Burglar; “that is — er — 
not exactly ! ‘All this’ is most regrettable. I 
weep over it. If I could have had my way un- 
opposed it would never have happened. But 
until you sit down close beside me I really can- 
not tell you in particular what I mean by that 
blessed word Peace. In general, I mean some- 
thing like the status quo ante hel ” 

“In this case,” interrupted the Householder, 
“you should say the status quo ante furtum — 
not helium [the state of things before the hur- 
glary, not before the war]. You are a mighty 
robber — not a common thief, but a most un- 
common one. Do you mean to restore the 
plunder you have grabbed?” 

397 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


^‘Yes, certainly/’ replied the Burglar, in a 
magnanimous tone; ‘‘that is to say, I mean 
you shall have a part of it, freely and willingly. 
I could keep it all, you know, but I am too noble 
to do that. You shall take the silverware and 
the souvenirs, I will take the jewels and the 
cash. Isn’t that a fair division Peace must 
always stand on a basis of equality between 
the two parties. Shake hands on it.” 

The Householder put his hand behind his 
back. 

“You insult me,” said he. “If I were your 
equal I should die of shame. Waive the com- 
parison. What about the damage you have 
done here ? Who shall repair it ” 

“All the world,” cried the Burglar eagerly; 
“everybody will help — especially your big 
neighbour across the lake. He is a fool with 
plenty of money. You cannot expect me to 
contribute. I am poor, but as honest as my 
profession will permit. This damage in your 
house is not wilful injury. It is merely one of 
the necessary accompaniments of my practice 
of burglary. You ought not to feel sore about 
it. Why do you rudely call attention to it, in- 
stead of talking politely and earnestly about the 
blessings of Peace?” 

“I am talking to you as politely as I can,” 
398 


A DIALOGUE ON PEACE 

said the Householder, moistening his dry lips, 
‘‘but while I am doing it, I feel as if I were 
smeared with mud. Tell me, what have you 
to say about my children and my servants whom 
you have tortured and murdered.^’’ 

“Ah, that,” answered the Burglar, shrugging 
his shoulders and spreading out his hands, palms 
upward, so that he looked like a gigantic toad, 
“ — that indeed is so very, very sad ! My heart 
mourns over it. But how could it be avoided? 
Those foolish people would not lie down, would 
not be still. Their conduct was directly con- 
trary to my system; see section 417, chapter 
93, in my ‘Great Field-Book of Burglary,’ under 
the title ‘Frightfulness.’ Perhaps in the ex- 
citement of the moment I went a little beyond 
those scientific regulations. The babies need 
not have been killed — only terrified. But that 
was a mere error of judgment which you will 
readily forgive and forget for the sake of the 
holy cause of Peace. Will you not?” 

The Householder turned quickly and spat 
into the fireplace. 

“Blasphemer,” he cried, “my gorge rises at 
you! Can there be any forgiveness until you 
repent? Can there be any Peace in the world 
if you go loose in it, ready to break and enter 
and kill when it pleases you? Will you lay 
399 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

down your weapons and come before the 
Judge?’’ 

The Burglar rose slowly to his feet, twisting 
up his mustache with bloody brass-knuckled 
hands. 

“You are a colossal ass,” he growled. “You 
forget how strong I am, how much I can still 
hurt you. I have offered you a chance to get 
Peace. Don’t you want it ? ” 

“Not as a present from you,” said the House- 
holder slowly. “It would poison me. I would 
rather die a decent man’s death.” 

He went a step nearer to the Burglar, who 
quickly backed away. 

“Come,” the Householder continued, “let 
us bandy compliments no longer. You are 
where you have no right to be. You can talk 
when I get you before the Judge. I want Peace 
no more than I want Justice. While there is 
a God in heaven and honest freemen still live 
on earth I will fight for both.” 

He took a fresh grip on his club, and the Bur- 
glar backed again, ready to spring. 

Through the dead silence of the room there 
came a loud knocking at the door. Could it 
be the big neighbour from across the lake ? 


400 


VI 

STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

I 

T^ROM the outset of this war two things have 
^ been clear to me. 

First, If the war continued It was absolutely 
Inevitable that the United States would be either 
drawn Into It by the Impulse of democratic 
sympathies or forced Into It by the Instinct of 
self-preservation. 

Second, the most adequate person In the 
world to decide when and how the United States 
should accept the great responsibility of fight- 
ing beside France and Great Britain for peace 
and for the American ideal of freedom was Presi- 
dent Wilson. 

His sagacity, his patience, his knowledge of 
the varied elements that are blended in our 
nationality, his sincere devotion to pacific con- 
ceptions of progress, his unwavering loyalty to 
the cause of liberty secured by law, national 
and international, made him the one man of 
all others to whom this great decision could 
most safely be confided. 

401 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


The people of the United States believed this 
in the election of 1916. They trusted him sin- 
cerely then because ‘'he kept us out of the war” 
imtil the inevitable hour. No less sincerely do 
they trust him now when he declares that the 
hour has come when we must “dedicate our 
lives and our fortunes, everything that we are 
and everything that we have” (President’s 
Message to Congress, April 2 , 1917), to defend 
ourselves and the world from the Imperial Ger- 
man Government, which is waging “a warfare 
against mankind.” 

In the quiet, but never idle, American Lega- 
tion at The Hague there was an excellent op- 
portunity to observe and study the incredible 
blunders by which Germany led us, and the 
unspeakable insults and injuries by which she 
drove us, to enter the war. 

Our adherence to the Monroe Doctrine was, 
at first, an obstacle to that entrance. Believ- 
ing that European governments ought not to 
interfere in national affairs on the American 
continents, we admitted the converse of that 
proposition, and held that America should not 
meddle with European controversies or con- 
flicts. But we soon came to a realising sense 
of the ominous fact that Germany was the na- 
tion of Europe which had openly despised and 
402 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

flouted the Monroe Doctrine as an outworn 
superstition. Her learned professors (followed 
by a few servile American imitators) had poured 
ridicule and scorn upon it in unreadable books. 
Her actions in the West Indies and South Amer- 
ica showed her contempt for it as a ‘‘bit of 
American bluff.” Gradually it dawned upon 
us that if France were crushed and England 
crippled our dear old Monroe Doctrine would 
stand a poor chance against a victorious and 
supercilious Imperial German Government. As 
I wrote in August, 1914, their idea was to 
“lunch in Paris, dine in London, and spend 
the night somewhere in America.” 

Another real barrier to our taking any part 
in the war was our sincere, profound, tradi- 
tional love of peace. This does not mean, of 
course, that America is a country of pacifists. 
Our history proves the contrary. Our con- 
scientious objections to certain shameful things, 
like injustice, and dishonour, and tyranny, and 
systematic cruelty, are stronger than our con- 
scientious objection to fighting. But our 
national policy is averse to war, and our national 
institutions are not favourable to its sudden 
declaration or swift prosecution. 

In effect, the United States is a pacific na- 
tion of fighting men. 


403 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


What was it, then, that forced such a nation 
into a conflict of arms? 

It was the growing sense that the very exist- 
ence of this war was a crime against humanity, 
that it need not and ought not to have been 
begun, and that the only way to put a stop to 
it was to join the Allies, who had tried to pre- 
vent its beginning, and who are still trying to 
bring it to the only end that will be a finality. 

It was also the conviction that the Monroe 
Doctrine, so far from being an obstacle, was 
an incentive to our entrance. The real basis 
of that doctrine is the right of free peoples, 
however small and weak, to maintain by com- 
mon consent their own forms of government. 
This Germany and Austria denied. The issue 
at stake was no longer merely European. It 
was world-wide. 

The Monroe Doctrine could not be saved in 
one continent if its foundation was destroyed 
in another. The only way to save it was to 
broaden it. 

The United States, having grown to be a 
World Power, must either uphold everywhere 
the principles by which it had been begotten 
and made great or sink into the state of an obese, 
helpless parasite. Its sister republics would 
share its fate. 


404 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

But more than this: it was the flagrant and 
contemptuous disregard of all the principles of 
international law and common humanity by 
the Imperial German Government that alarmed 
and incensed us. The list of crimes and atroci- 
ties ordered in this war by the mysterious and 
awful power that rules the German people — 
which I prefer to call, for the sake of brevity 
and impersonality, the Potsdam gang — is too 
long to be repeated here. The levying of un- 
lawful tribute from captured cities and villages; 
the use of old men, women, and children as a 
screen for advancing troops; the extortion of 
military information from civilians by cruel 
and barbarous methods; the burning and de- 
struction of entire towns as a punishment for 
the actual or suspected hostile deeds of in- 
dividuals, and the brutal avowal that in this 
punishment it was necessary that ‘‘the inno- 
cent shall suffer with the guilty’’ (see the letter 
of General von Nieber to the burgomaster of 
Wavre, August 27, and the proclamation of 
Governor-General von der Goltz, September 
2, 1914); the introduction of the use of as- 
phyxiating gas as a weapon of war (at Ypres, 
April 22, 1915); the poisoning of wells; the 
reckless and needless defacement of priceless 
monuments of art like the Cathedral of Reims; 

405 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


the deliberate and treacherous violation of the 
Red Cross, which is the sign of mercy and com- 
passion for all Christendom; the bombardment 
of hospitals and the cold-blooded slaughter of 
nurses and wounded men; the sinking of hos- 
pital ships with their helpless and suffering 
company — all these, and many other infamies 
committed by order of the Potsdam gang made 
the heart of America hot and angry against 
the power which devised and commanded such 
brutality. True, they were not, technically 
speaking, crimes directed against the United 
States. They did not injure our material in- 
terests. They injured our souls and the world 
in which we have to live. They were vivid 
illustrations of the inward nature of that Ger- 
man Kultur whose superiority, the German 
professors say, ‘‘is rooted in the unfathomable 
depths of its moral constitution.” {Deutsche 
Reden in Schwerer Zeit, II, p. 23.) 

But there were two criminal blunders — or 
perhaps it would be more accurate to call them 
two series of obstinate and stupid offences 
against international law — by which the Pots- 
dam gang directly assailed the sovereignty 
and neutrality of the United States and forced 
us to choose between the surrender of our na- 
tional integrity and a frank acceptance of the 
406 


STAND PAST, YE FREE! 

war which Germany was waging, not only 
against our principles and interests, but against 
the things which in our judgment were essen- 
tial to the welfare of mankind and to the exist- 
ence of honourable and decent relations among 
the peoples of the world. 

The first of these offences was the cynical 
and persistent attempt to take advantage of 
the good nature and unsuspiciousness of the 
United States for the establishment of an im- 
pudent system of German espionage; to use 
our territory as a base of conspiracy and 
treacherous hostilities against countries with 
which we were at peace; and to lose no oppor- 
tunity of mobilising the privileges granted by 
‘‘these idiotic Yankees” (quotation from the 
military attache of the Imperial German Em- 
bassy at Washington) — including, of course, 
the diplomatic privilege — to make America un- 
consciously help in playing the game of the 
Potsdam gang. 

The second of these offences was the illegal, 
piratical submarine warfare which the Potsdam 
gang ordered and waged against the merchant 
shipping of the world, thereby destroying the 
lives and the property of American citizens and 
violating the most vital principle of our stead- 
fast contention for the freedom of the sea. 

407 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


The message of the President to Congress 
on April 2, 1917, marked these two oflFences as 
the main causes which made it impossible for 
the United States to maintain longer an oflScial 
attitude of neutrality toward the German Gov- 
ernment, which ‘‘did what it pleased and told 
its people nothing.” The President generously 
declared that the source of these offences “lay 
not in any hostile feeling or purpose of the Ger- 
man people toward us.” That was a mag- 
nanimous declaration, and we sincerely hope it 
may prove true. 

But practically the difficulty lies in the fact 
that at the present hour several millions of the 
German people stand in arms, on land that 
does not belong to them, to maintain the pur- 
pose and continue the practices of the Pots- 
dam gang. It is a pity, but it is true. The 
only way to get at the gang which chose and 
forced this atrocious war is to go through the 
armed people who still defend that choice and 
the atrocities which have emphasised it. 

Forgiveness must wait upon repentance. Re- 
pentance must be proved by restitution and 
reparation. Any other settlement of this world 
conflict would be a world calamity. For Amer- 
ica and for all the Allies who are fighting for 
a peace worth having and keeping, the watch- 
word must be: Stand fasty ye free I 
408 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 


II 

The oflFences against the neutrality of the 
United States which were instigated and financed 
by the Potsdam gang were enumerated by the 
Committee on Foreign Affairs of the House of 
Representatives in the first week of April, 1917, 
and amounted to at least twenty-one distinct 
crimes or unfriendly acts, including the furnish- 
ing of bogus passports to German reservists 
and spies, the incitement of rebellion in India 
and in Mexico, the preparation of dynamite 
outrages against Canada, the placing of bombs 
in ships sailing from American ports, and many 
other ill-judged pleasantries of a similar char- 
acter. 

The crown was put on this series of blunder- 
ing misdeeds by the note of January 19, 1917, 
sent from the German Foreign OflSce (under 
cover of our diplomatic privilege, of course) to 
the German Minister in Mexico, directing him 
to prepare an alliance with that country against 
the United States in the event of war, urging 
him to use Mexico as an agent to draw Japan 
into that alliance, and offering as a bribe to 
the Mexicans the possession of American terri- 
tory in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. (See 
War Message and Facts Behind It, p. 13. Pub- 
lished by the Committee on Public Informa- 
409 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

tion, Washington, Government Printing Office, 
1917.) 

The fact is, we have only just begun to under- 
stand the real nature of the German secret 
service, which works with, and either under 
or over, the diplomatic service. 

It is certainly the most highly organised, 
systematic, and expensive, and at the same 
time probably the most bone-headed and un- 
scrupulous, secret service in the world. 

Its powers of falsification and evasion are 
only exceeded by its capacity for making those 
mistakes which spring from a congenital con- 
tempt for other people. 

At The Hague I had numerous opportuni- 
ties of observing and noting the workings of 
this peculiar system. The story of many of 
them cannot be publicly told without violating 
that reserve which I prefer to maintain in re- 
gard to confidential communications and private 
affairs in which the personal reputation of in- 
dividuals is involved. But there are two or 
three experiences of which I may write freely 
without incurring either self-reproach or a just 
reproach from others. They are not at all sen- 
sational. But they seemed at the time, and 
they seem still, to have a certain significance 
as indications of the psychology of the people 
410 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

with whom we were then in nominal friend- 
ship. 

Three requests were made to me for the for- 
warding of important communications to Brus- 
sels under cover of the diplomatic privilege of 
the American Legation. The memoranda of 
the dates and so on are in the Chancellery at 
The Hague, so I cannot refer to them. But it 
is certain that the requests came shortly after 
the beginning of the war, in the first or second 
week of August, 1914, and the content and pur- 
port of them are absolutely clear in my memory. 

The first request was from Berlin for the 
transmission of a note to the Belgian Govern- 
ment, renewing the proposition which the Pots- 
dam gang had made on August 2: namely, 
that Belgium should permit the free passage 
of German troops through her neutral ground 
on condition that Germany would pay for all 
damage done and that Belgian territory would 
not be annexed. (Of. Dip. Doc., p. 402.) King 
Albert had already replied, on August 3, to 
this proposition, saying that to permit such a 
passage of hostile troops against France would 
be ‘‘a flagrant violation of international law” 
and would ‘‘sacrifice the honour of the nation.” 
(Off. Dip. Doc., p. 421.) After such an answer it 
did not seem to me that the renewal of the dis- 
411 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

honourable proposal was likely to have a good 
eflFect. Yet the Berlin note was entirely cor- 
rect in form. It merely oflFered a chance for 
Belgium to choose again between peace with 
the friendship of Germany and dishonour at- 
tached, and war in defence of the neutrality 
to which she was bound by the very treaties 
(1831, 1839) which brought her into being. I 
had no right to interpose an obstacle to the 
repetition of Belgium’s first heroic choice. I 
pointed out that, not being accredited to the 
Belgian Government, I was not in a position 
to transmit any communication to it. But I 
was willing to forward the note to my colleague 
the American Minister in Brussels, absolutely 
vnihout recommendation^ but simply for such 
disposal as he thought fit. Accordingly the 
note was transmitted to him.* 

What Whitlock did with it I do not know. 
What answer, if any, Belgium made I do not 
know. But I do know that she stood to her 
guns and kept her honour intact. 

The second request was of a different quality. 
It came to me from the Imperial German Lega- 
tion at The Hague. It was a note for trans- 
mission to the Belgian Government, beginning 

*My colleague. Honourable James W. Gerard, Ex-Ambassador to 
Germany, has referred to this in his very interesting book. My Four 
Years in Germany, p. 136. 


412 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

with a reference to the fall of Liege and the 
hopeless folly of attempting to resist the Ger- 
man invasion, and continuing with an intima- 
tion of the terrible consequences which would 
follow Belgium’s persistence in her mad idea 
of keeping her word of honour. In effect the 
note was a curious combination of an insult 
and a threat. I promptly and positively re- 
fused to transmit it or to have anything to do 
with it. 

“But why,” said the German counsellor, 
sitting by my study fire — a Prussian of the 
Prussians — “why do you refuse.^ You are a 
neutral, a friend of both parties. Why not 
simply transmit the note to your colleague in 
Brussels as you did before? You are not in 
any way responsible for its contents.” 

“Quite so,” I answered, “and thank God for 
that! But suppose you had a quarrel with a 
neighbour in the Rheinland, who had positively 
declined a proposition which you had made 
to him. And suppose, the ordinary post-boy 
services being interrupted, you asked me to 
convey to your neighbour a note which began 
by addressing him as a ‘silly s — of a b — ,’ and 
ended by telling him that if he did not agree 
you would certainly grind him to powder. 
Would you expect me to play the post-boy 
413 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


for such a billet-doux on the ground that I was 
not responsible for its contents and was a friend 
of both parties?” 

"'Well,” replied the counsellor, laughing at 
the North American directness of my language, 
"probably not.” So he folded up the note 
and took it away. What became of it I do not 
know nor care. 

The third request was of still another qual- 
ity. It came from the Imperial Austro-Hun- 
garian Legation, which very politely asked me 
to transmit a message in the American diplo- 
matic code to my colleague in Brussels for de- 
livery to the Austro-Hungarian Legation, which 
still lingered in that city. The first and last 
parts of the message were in plain language, 
good English, quite innocent and proper. But 
the kernel of the despatch was written in the 
numerical secret cipher of Vienna, which of 
course I was unable to read. I drew attention 
to this, and asked mildly how I could be ex- 
pected to put this passage into our code with- 
out knowing what the words were. The an- 
swer was that it would not be necessary to code 
this passage; it could be transmitted in num- 
bers just as it stood; the Austro-Hungarian 
charge d’affaires at Brussels would understand 
it. 


414 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

‘‘Quite so,” I answered, ^^hut you see the 'point 
is that I do not understand it. My dear count, 
you are my very good friend, and it grieves me 
deeply to decline any requests of yours. But 
the simple fact is that our instructions explicitly 
forbid us to send any message in two codes. 

The count — ^who, by the way, was an ex- 
cellent and most amiable man — blushed and 
stammered that he was only carrying out the 
instructions of his chief, but that my point 
was perfectly clear and indisputable. I was 
glad that he saw it in that light, and we parted 
on the most friendly terms. What became of 
the message I do not know nor care. 

It was about the 1st of September, 1915, 
that I came into brief contact with the case 
of Mr. Archibald. This gentleman was an 
American journalist, and a clever and agreeable 
man. We had met some months before, when 
he was on his way back to America from his 
professional work in Germany, and he had been 
a welcome guest at my table. But the second 
meeting was different. 

This time Mr. Archibald was returning toward 
Germany on the Holland-America steamship 
Rotterdam. When the boat touched at Fal- 
mouth, on August 30, the British authorities 
examined his luggage and foimd that he was 
415 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


carrying private letters and oflScial despatches 
from Doctor Dumba the Austrian Ambassador 
at Washington, from Count Bernstorff the Ger- 
man Ambassador, and from Captain von Papen 
his military attache. Not only was the carry- 
ing of these letters by a private person on a 
regular mail route a recognised offence against 
the law, but the documents themselves con- 
tained matter of an incriminating and seditious 
nature, most imfriendly to the United States. 
The egregious Doctor Dumba, for example, 
described how it would be possible to ‘‘dis- 
organise and hold up for months if not entirely 
prevent,” the work of American factories; and 
the colossal Captain von Papen, in a letter re- 
ferring to the activities of German secret agents 
in America, gave birth to his eloquent and 
unforgetable phrase, “these idiotic Yankees.” 
The papers, of course, were taken from Mr. 
Archibald at Falmouth, but he was allowed to 
continue his voyage to Rotterdam en route 
for Berlin. 

Before his arrival, however, a cablegram 
came from the Department of State at Wash- 
ington instructing me to take up his regular 
passport which was made out to cover travel 
in Germany; to give him an emergency pass- 
port valid for one month and good only for 
416 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

the return to the United States; and to use all 
proper means to get him back to New York 
at the earliest possible date. 

Having found out that he was lodged at a 
certain hotel I sent him a courteous invitation 
to call at the Legation on business of importance. 
He came promptly and we sat down in the li- 
brary for a conversation which you will admit 
had its delicate points. 

He began by saying that he supposed I had 
seen the newspaper accounts of what happened 
to him at Falmouth; that he was greatly sur- 
prised and chagrined about the matter; that 
he had been entirely ignorant of the contents 
of the documents found in his possession; that 
he had imagined — indeed, he had been distinctly 
told — that they were innocent private letters 
relating to personal and domestic affairs; that 
he did not know there was any impropriety 
in conveying such letters; that if he had sus- 
pected their nature or known that they included 
official despatches he would never have taken 
them. 

I replied that his personal statement was 
enough for me on that point, but that it seemed 
to throw rather a dark shadow on the char- 
acter and conduct of his friends in the German 
and Austrian Embassies who had knowingly 
417 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


exposed his innocence to such a risk. I added 
that it was probably with a view to obtaining 
his help in clearing up the matter that the De- 
partment of State had instructed me to take 
up his passport. 

“But have you the right to do that?” 

“Under American law, yes, unquestionably.” 

“But under Dutch law?” 

“Probably not. But I hope it will not be 
necessary to invoke that law. Simply to in- 
form the Dutch Foreign Minister of the pres- 
ence of an American whose passport had been 
revoked but who refused to give it up, would 
probably be sufficient.” 

He reflected for a moment, and then said, 
smiling: 

“I don’t refuse to give it up. Here it is. Now 
tell me what I shall do without a passport.” 

“Fortunately I have authority to give you 
an emergency passport, good for a month, and 
covering the return voyage to America.” 

“But I don’t want to go there. I want to 
go on to Berlin.” 

“Unfortunately I fear that will be impos- 
sible. Your old passport is invalid and will 
not carry you over the Dutch border. Your 
new passport cannot be made out for Germany. 
Your best course is to return home.” 

418 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

‘‘I see. But have you any right to arrest me 
and send me to America ? ” 

‘‘None whatever, my dear sir. Please don’t 
misunderstand me. This is not an arrest, it is 
just a bit of friendly advice. ‘Your country 
needs you.’ You naturally want an early 
chance to tell Washington what you have told 
me. The Rotterdam is a very comfortable ship, 
and she sails for New York the day after to- 
morrow. I have already bespoken an excellent 
room for you. Do you accept ^ ” 

“Yes, and thank you for the way you have 
put the matter. But do you think they will 
arrest me when I get to New York?” 

“Probably not. But to help in forestalling 
that unpleasant possibility I will cable Wash- 
ington that you are coming at once, of your 
own free will, and anxious to tell the whole 
story.” 

So he went, and I saw him ofif on the Rotter- 
dam^ a pallid and downcast figure. I pitied 
him. It seemed strange that any one should 
ever trust that unscrupulous, callous, thick- 
pated German diplomatic-secret-service machine 
which is always ready to expose a too confiding 
and admiring friend to danger or disgrace in 
order to serve its imperious necessities. 

Holland, of course, owing to its geographical 
419 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


situation, was a regular nest of German espio- 
nage. Other spies were there, too, but they 
were much less in evidence than the Germans. 
Of the tricks and the manners of the latter I 
had some picturesque experiences which I do 
not feel at liberty to narrate. The Department 
of State has been informed of them, and has 
no doubt put the information safely away with 
a lot of other things which it knows but does 
not think it expedient or necessary to tell until 
the proper time. 

But there is no reason why the simple tale 
of the futile attempt to plant two German 
spies in my household at The Hague should 
not be told. One of the men in our domestic 
service, a Hollander, had been obliged to leave 
and we wanted to fill his place. This was dif- 
ficult because the requirements of the Dutch 
army service claimed such a large number of 
the younger men. 

The first who applied for the vacant place 
professed to be a Belgian. Perhaps he was. 
On demand he produced his ‘‘papers” — birth- 
certificate, baptismal registry, several Passier- 
scheme^ and so forth. But down in a corner 
on the back of one of the papers was a dim blue 
stamp — ""Imperial German Marine.''^ What was 
the meaning of this? What had the Potsdam 
420 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

High-Sea Fleet to do with this peaceable over- 
land traveller from Belgium? Voluble excuses, 
but no satisfactory explanation. I told him 
that I feared he was too experienced for the 
place. 

The second who applied was an unquestion- 
able Dutchman, young, good-looking, intel- 
ligent. Papers in perfect order. Present ser- 
vice with a well-known pro-German family. 
Previous service of one year with a lady who 
was one of my best friends — the wife of a high 
government oflBcial. I rang her up on the tele- 
phone and asked if she could tell me anything 
about A. B., who had been in service with her 
for a year. A second of silence, then the an- 
swer: ‘‘Yes, a good deal, but not on the tele- 
phone, please. Come around to tea this after- 
noon.” Madame L. then told me that while 
the young man was clean, sober, and indus- 
trious, he had been found rummaging among 
her husband’s official papers, in a room which 
he was forbidden to enter, and had been caught 
several times listening at the keyhole of doors 
while private conferences were going on. 

It seemed to me that a young man with such 
an uncontrollable thirst for knowledge would 
not be suited for the service which would be 
required of him in our household. 

4£1 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


Afterward, traces of both of these men were 
found which led unmistakably to the lair of 
the chief spider of the German secret service 
at The Hague. The incident was a very small 
one. But, after all, life is made up of small in- 
cidents with a connected meaning. 

At the time when I am writing this (Sep- 
tember £4, 1917) the moral character of the 
tools of the Potsdam gang has again been 
stripped naked by the disclosure of the treach- 
ery by which the German Legation in Argentina 
has utilised the Swedish Legation in that coun- 
try to transmit, under diplomatic privilege, 
messages inciting to murder on the high seas. 
Argentina has already taken the action to be 
expected from an American Republic by dis- 
missing the German Minister. What Sweden 
will do to vindicate her honour remains to be 
seen. 

There are two points in the disclosures made 
on September £3 by the Department of State 
which bear directly upon this simple narrative 
of experiences at The Hague. 

The fetching female comic-opera star, Ray 
Beveridge, discreetly alluded to in the third 
chapter (p. 344), was secretly paid three thou- 
sand dollars by the Imperial German Embassy 
4££ 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

in Washington to finance her artistic activities. 
So, you see, I was not far wrong in forwarding 
her divorce papers to Germany and refusing 
to transmit her newspaper correspondence to 
America. She was a paid souhrette in the Pots- 
dam troupe. 

The affable and intelligent Mr. Archibald, 
alluded to in this chapter (p. 415), received on 
April 21, 1915, according to these disclosures, 
five thousand dollars from the Imperial German 
Embassy in Washington for ‘‘propaganda’^ 
services. 


Ill 

The record of the German submarine war- 
fare on merchant shipping is one of the most 
extraordinary chapters in history. Americans 
have read it with appropriate indignation, but 
not always with clear understanding of the 
precise issues involved. Let me try to make 
those issues plain, since the submarine cam- 
paign was one of the causes which forced this 
war upon the United States. (President’s Mes- 
sage to Congress, April 2, 1917, paragraphs 
2 - 10 .) 

In war all naval vessels, including of course 
submarines, have the right to attack and de- 
stroy, by any means in their power, any war- 
423 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


ship of the enemy. In regard to merchant- 
ships the case is different, according to inter- 
national law. (See G. G. Wilson, International 
Law, §§114, 136, New York, 1901-1909.) 

The war- vessel has the right of ‘‘visit and 
search” on all merchant-ships, enemy or neu- 
tral. It has also the right, in case the cargo 
of the merchant-ship appears to include more 
than a certain percentage of contraband, to 
capture it and take it into a port for adjudica- 
tion as a prize. The war-vessel has also the 
right to sink a presumptive prize under con- 
ditions (such as distance, stress of weather, 
and so forth) which make it impossible to take 
it into port. 

But here the right of the war-vessel stops. 
It has absolutely no right to sink the merchant- 
ship without warning and without making 
eflScient provision for the safety of the pas- 
sengers and crew. That is the common law of 
civilized nations. To break it is to put one’s 
self beyond the pale. 

Some Germanophile critics have faulted me 
for calling the Teutonic submarines “Potsdam 
pirates.” A commissioned vessel, these critics 
say, which merely executes the orders of its 
government, cannot properly be called a pirate. 

Why not? Take the definition of piracy 
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given in the New Oxford Dictionary: ‘‘The 
crime of robbery or depredation on the sea by 
persons not holding a commission from an estab- 
lished civilized stateJ^ 

There’s the point! Is a nation which orders 
its servants to commit deeds forbidden by in- 
ternational law, a nation which commands its 
naval officers to commit deliberate, wanton, 
dastardly murder on the high seas (case of Bel- 
gian Prince, July 31, 1917, and others), is such 
a nation to be regarded as “an established 
civilized state” ? 

Were Algiers and Tunis and Tripoli “civilized 
states” when they sent out the Barbary pirates 
in the eighteenth and early nineteenth cen- 
tmies ? We thought not, and we sent our war- 
ships to whip the barbarism out of them. 

Commodore Stephen Decatur, in 1815, forced 
the cruel and cowardly Dey of Algiers to sign 
a deed of renunciation and a promise of good 
conduct, on the deck of an American frigate, 
under the Stars and Stripes. 

A hundred years ago the honour of the Amer- 
ican navy was made clear to the world in the 
suppression of the pirates of North Africa. To- 
day that honour must be maintained by firm, 
fearless, unrelenting war against the pirates of 
North Germany. 


425 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

A commission to do a certain thing which 
is in itself unlawful does not change the nature 
of the misdeed. No nation has a right to com- 
mission its officers to violate the law of nations. 

But the Germans say their submarines are 
such wonderful, delicate, scientific machines 
that it is impossible for them to give warning 
of an attack, or to do anything to save the help- 
less people whose peaceful vessel has been sunk 
beneath their feet. The precious, fragile sub- 
marine cannot be expected to observe any law 
of humanity which would imperil its further 
usefulness as an instrument of destruction. 

Marvellous argument — worthy of the Pots- 
dam mind in its highest state of Kultur! By 
the same reasoning any assassin might claim 
the right to kill without resistance because he 
proposed to commit the crime with a dagger 
so delicately wrought, so frail, so slender, that 
the slightest struggle on the part of his victim 
would break the costly, beautiful, murderous 
weapon. 

Again, these extraordinary Germans say that 
merchant-ships ought not to carry weapons 
for defence; it is too dangerous for the dainty 
U-boat; every merchantman thus armed must 
be treated as a vessel of war. But the law of 
nations for more than two centuries has sanc- 
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tioned the carrying of defensive armament by 
merchant-ships, and precisely because they 
might need it to protect themselves against 
pirates. 

Shall the United States be asked to rewrite 
this article of international law, in the midst 
of a great war on sea and land ? Shall the gov- 
ernment at Washington be seduced by cajolery, 
or compelled by threats, to rob the merchant- 
men of the poor protection of a single gun in 
order that they may fall absolutely helpless 
into the hands of the prowling pirates ? That 
would be neutrality with a vengeance! Yet 
that is just what the Imperial German Gov- 
ernment tried to persuade or force the United 
States to do. 

These were the matters under discussion 
when I was called to Washington in February, 
1916, for consultation with the President. The 
long and wearing controversy had been going 
on for months. Every month notes were com- 
ing from Berlin, each more evasive and unsatis- 
factory than the last. Every week Count Bem- 
storff and his aides were coming to the State 
Department with new excuses, new subter- 
fuges, and the same old lies. The President 
and Secretary Lansing, both of whom are ex- 
cellent international lawyers, found their pa- 
427 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


tience tried to the uttermost by the absurdity 
of the arguments presented to them and by 
the veiled contempt in the manner of the pres- 
entation. But they kept their tempers and did 
their best to keep the peace. 

On two points they were firm as adamant. 
First, the law of nations should not and could 
not be changed in the midst of a war to suit 
the need of one of the parties. Second, ‘Hhe 
use of submarines for the destruction of com- 
merce is of necessity, because of the very char- 
acter of the vessels employed and the very 
methods of attack which their employment 
of course involves, incompatible with the prin- 
ciples of humanity, the long-established and in- 
controvertible rights of neutrals, and the sacred 
immunities of non-combatants.” (President 
Wilson’s Address to Congress, April 19, 1916.) 

It was on my return from this visit to Wash- 
ington that I had an opportunity of observing 
at close range the crooked methods of the Pots- 
dam gang in regard to the U-boat warfare. Ar- 
riving at The Hague on March 24, 1916, 1 found 
Holland stirred with helpless rage over the 
recent sinking of the S.S. Tuhantia, the newest 
and best boat of the Netherlands-Lloyd mer- 
chant-fleet. She was torpedoed by an unseen 
submarine on March 15. 

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An explanation was promptly demanded from 
the German Government, which denied any 
knowledge of the affair. Holland, lacking evi- 
dence as to the perpetrator of the crime, would 
have had to swallow this denial but for an acci- 
dent which furnished the missing proof. One 
of the Tubantia's small boats drifted ashore. 
In the boat was a fragment of a Schwarzkopf 
torpedo — a type manufactured and used only 
by Germany. This fragment was forwarded to 
Berlin, with another and more urgent demand 
for explanation, apology, and reparation. 

The German newspapers coolly replied with 
the astounding statement that there had been 
two or three Schwarzkopf torpedoes in naval 
museums in England, and that this particular 
specimen had probably been given to a British 
submarine and used by her to destroy the good 
ship Tuhantia. 

Again Holland would have been left help- 
less, choking with indignation, but for a second 
accident. Another of the lost steamship’s boats 
was found, and in it there was another fragment 
of the torpedo. This fragment bore the marks 
of the German navy, telling just when the tor- 
pedo was made and to which of the U-boats it 
had been issued. 

With this bit of damning evidence in his bag 
429 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


a Dutch naval expert was sent to Berlin to get 
to the bottom of the crime and to demand jus- 
tice. He got there, but he found no justice. 

The German navy is very systematic, keeps 
accurate books, makes no accidental mistake. 
The pedigree and record of the Schwarzkopf 
were found. It was issued to a certain U-boat 
on a certain date. Undoubtedly it was the 
missile which unfortunately sank the Tvbantia. 
All this was admitted and deeply regretted. 
But Germany was free from all responsibility 
for the sad occurrence. The following amazing 
explanation was given by the Imperial German 
Government. 

This certain U-boat had fired this particular 
torpedo at a British war-vessel somewhere in 
the North Sea ten days before the Tubantia 
was sunk. The shot missed its mark. But the 
naughty, undisciplined little torpedo went cruis- 
ing around in the sea on its own hook for ten 
days waiting for a chance to kill somebody. 
Then the Tubantia came along, and the wander- 
ing-Willy torpedo promptly, obstinately, ran 
into the ship and sank her. This was the ex- 
planation. Germany was not to blame. (See 
the official report in the Orange Boohs of the 
Netherlands Government, July, 1916, Decem- 
ber, 1916.) 


430 


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This stupendous fairy-tale Holland was ex- 
pected to believe and to accept as the end of 
the affair. She did not believe it. She had to 
accept it. What else could she do.^ Fight 
She did not want to share Belgium’s dreadful 
fate. The Dutch Government proposed that 
the whole Tuhantia incident be submitted to 
an international commission. The German Gov- 
ernment accepted this proposal en 'prind'pe, but 
said it must be deferred until after the war. 

I wonder why some of the Americans who 
blame Holland for not being In arms against 
Germany never think of that stern and awful 
deterrent which stands under her eyes and 
presses upon her very bosom. She is still in- 
dependent, still neutral, still unravaged. Five- 
sixths of her people, I believe, have no sym- 
pathy with the German Government in its 
choice and conduct of this war. At least this 
was the case while I was at The Hague. But 
the one thing that Holland is, above all else, 
is pro-Dutch. She wants to keep her liberty, 
her sovereignty, her land untouched. To de- 
fend these treasures she will fight, and for no 
other reason. I have heard Queen Wilhelmina 
say this a score of times. She means it, and her 
people are with her. 

Seven Dutch ships were sunk in a bunch in 
431 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


the English Channel by the Potsdam pirates 
on February 22, 1917. Holland was furious. 
She stated her grievance, protested, remon- 
strated — and there she stopped. If she had 
tried to do anything more she stood to lose a 
third of her territory in a few days and the 
whole in a few weeks — lose it, mark you, to 
the gang that ruined Belgium. 

But the position, and therefore the case, of 
America in regard to the German submarine 
warfare was quite diflFerent. She was one of 
the eight ‘‘Big Powers” of the world. She 
was the mightiest of the neutrals. 

Her rights at sea were no greater than theirs. 
But her duties were greater, just because she 
was larger, more powerful, better able to cham- 
pion those rights not only for herself but also 
for others. 

She would not have to pay such an instant, 
awful, crushing penalty for armed resistance 
to the brutalities of the Potsdam gang as would 
certainly be inflicted upon the little northern 
neutrals if they attempted to defend them- 
selves against injustice and aggression. 

Their part was to make protest, and record 
it, and wait for justice until the war was ended. 
America’s part was to make protest, and then 
— ^her protest being mocked, scorned, disre- 
432 


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garded — to stand up in arms with France and 
Great Britain and help to end the war by a 
victory of righteous peace. 

But did we not also have objections to some 
of the measures and actions of the British block- 
ade — as, for instance, the seizure and search of 
the mails Certainly we did, and Secretary 
Lansing stated them clearly and maintained 
them firmly. But here is the difference. These 
objections concerned only the rights of neutral 
'property on the high seas. We knew by positive 
assurance from England, and by our experience 
with her in the Alabama Claims Arbitration, 
that she was ready to refer all such questions 
to an impartial tribunal and abide by its de- 
cision. Our objections to the conduct of the 
German navy concerned the far more sacred 
rights of ‘‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of hap- 
piness.” 

The murder of one American child at sea 
meant more to us than the seizure of a thou- 
sand cargoes of alleged contraband. 

No one has ever accused the British or French 
or Italian sailors in this war of sinking merchant- 
ships without warning, leaving their crews and 
passengers to drown. On the contrary, British 
seamen have risked and lost their lives in a 
chivalrous attempt to save the lives even of 
433 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


their enemies after the fair sinking of a Ger- 
man war-ship. 

But the hands of the Potsdam pirates are 
red with innocent blood. The bottom of the 
sea is strewn with the wrecks they have made. 
“The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean” hide 
the bones of their helpless victims, who shall 
rise at the judgment-day to testify against 
them. 

On May 7, 1915, the passenger liner Lusi-- 
tania, unarmed, was sunk without warning by 
a German U-boat off the Irish coast. One hun- 
dred and fourteen Americans — men, women, 
and little children, lawful and peaceful travellers 
— were drowned 

‘^Butchered to make a [German] holiday. 

The holiday was celebrated in Germany. The 
schools were let out. The soldiers in the reserve 
camps had leave to join in the festivities. The 
towns and cities were filled with fluttering flags 
and singing folks. A German pastor preached: 
“Whoever cannot bring himself to approve 
from the bottom of his heart the sinking of 
the Lusitania — ^him we judge to be no true Ger- 
man.” {Deutsche Reden in Schwerer Zeity No. 24, 
p. 7.) A medal was struck to commemorate 
the great achievement. It is a very ugly medal. 

434 


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I keep a copy of it in order that I may never 
forget the character of a nation which was not 
content with rejoicing over such a crime but 
desired to immortalise it in bronze. 

The three strong and eloquent notes of Presi- 
dent Wilson in regard to the Lusitania are too 
well known to be quoted here. The practical 
answer from Potsdam (passing over the usual 
subterfuges and falsehoods) was the sinking of 
the Arabic August 19 and the murder of three 
more Americans. Then the correspondence lan- 
guished until the torpedoing (March 24, 1916) of 
the Sussex, a Channel ferry-boat, crowded with 
passengers, among whom were many Americans. 
Then the President sent a flat message calling 
down the Potsdam pirates and declaring that 
unless they abandoned their nefarious practices 
‘‘the United States had no choice but to sever 
diplomatic relations with the German Empire 
altogether’’ (April 18, 1916). 

This brought a grudging promise from Ger- 
many that she would henceforth refrain from 
sinking merchant- vessels “without warning and 
without saving human lives, unless the ship 
attempted to escape or offer resistance.” How 
this promise was kept may be judged from the 
sinking of the Marina (October 28), with the 
loss of eight American lives, and of the Russian 
435 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

(December 14), with the loss of seventeen Amer- 
ican lives, and other similar sinkings. 

During all this time Germany had been build- 
ing new and larger submarines with wonderful 
industry. She had filled up her pack of sea- 
wolves. On January 31, 1917, she revoked her 
pledge, let loose her wolf-pack, and sent word 
to all the neutral nations that she would sink 
at sight all ships found in the zones which she 
had marked ‘‘around Great Britain, France, 
Italy, and in the Eastern Mediterranean.’^ 
(JVhy We Are at War, p. 23, New York, 1917.) 
The President promptly broke off diplomatic 
relations (February 3), and said that we should 
refrain from hostilities until the commission of 
“actual overt acts” by Germany forced us 
to the conviction that she meant to carry out 
her base threat. 

The overt acts came quickly. Between Feb- 
ruary 3 and April 1 eight American merchant- 
ships were sunk, and more than forty American 
lives were destroyed by the Potsdam pirates. 

The die was cast. On April 2, 1917, the Presi- 
dent advised Congress that the United States 
could no longer delay the formal acceptance of 
“the status of belligerent which had been thrust 
upon it.” On April 6 Congress took the neces- 
sary action. On the same day the President 
436 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

proclaimed that ‘‘a state of war exists between 
the United States and the Imperial German 
Government.” 

Back of this momentous and noble decision, 
in which the hearts of the immense majority 
of Americans are with the President, there are 
undoubtedly many strong and righteous reasons. 
Some of these I have tried to set forth in the 
jBrst part of this article. But we must never 
forget that the specific reason given by the 
President, the definite cause which forced us 
into the war, is the German method of sub- 
marine warfare, which he has repeatedly de- 
nounced as illegal, immoral, inhuman — a direct 
and brutal attack upon us and upon all man- 
kind. These words cannot be forgotten, nor is 
it likely that the President will retract them. 

They set up at least one steadfast mark in 
the midst of the present fiood of peace talk. 
There can be no parley with a criminal who is 
in full and exultant practice of his crime. Un- 
less the U-boat warfare is renounced, repented 
of, and abandoned by the Potsdam pirates, an 
honourable peace is unattainable except by 
fighting for it and winning it.* 

* Belgian Relief ships sunk: S.S. Camilla, Trevier, Feistein, Storstad, 
Lars Kruse, Euphrates, Haelen, and Tunis (the last two shelled but 
not sunk). 

Hospital ships sunk: Britannic (probably but not certainly torpedoed); 

437 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


IV 

Only a little space is left for writing of my 
retirement from the post at The Hague and 
my experiences thereafter in England and 
France. 

The reader may have gathered from the tenor 
of these chapters that the work at the Legation 
was hard and that the situation was trying to 
a man with strong convictions and the habit 
of expressing them frankly. My resignation 
was tendered in September, 1916, with the re- 
quest that it should not be made public until 
after the re-election of President Wilson, which 
I earnestly desired and expected. My reasons 
for resigning were partly of a domestic nature. 
But the main reason was a personal wish to 
get back to my work as a writer, ‘‘with full 
freedom to say what I thought and felt about 
the war.’’ 

The German-American press has tried to 
start a rumour that I was recalled to Wash- 
ington to explain my action on a certain point. 

Asturias, March 24, 1917; Gloucester Castle, March 30; Donegal, April 
17; Lanfranc, April 17 (with British wounded and German wourided 
^prisoners). 

Among the neutral nations Norway alone has lost more than six 
hundred ships by mines and torpedoes of German origin. The dance 
of death still goes on. 


438 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

That is entirely false. The government never 
asked for an explanation of anything in my 
conduct while in ojBSce, or afterward. On the 
contrary, the President has been kind enough 
to express his approval of my services in terms 
too friendly to be quoted here. 

In November, after President Wilson had 
been triumphantly chosen for a second term, 
I ventured to recall his attention to my letter 
of September. He answered that he would 
‘^reluctantly yield” to my wishes, but would 
appreciate my remaining at The Hague until 
a successor could be found for the post. Of 
course I willingly agreed to this. 

In December the name of this successor, Mr. 
John W. Garrett, was cabled to me with in- 
structions to find out whether he would be ac- 
ceptable to the Queen and the Government of 
Holland. Her Majesty said that this gentle- 
man would certainly be 'persona gratae and I 
cabled to Washington to this effect. 

Early in January a message came from the 
Secretary of State saying that, as all was ar- 
ranged except the final confirmation of the 
appointment, I might feel free to leave at my 
convenience. Having cleaned up my work and 
left everything in order for my successor (in- 
439 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


eluding the lease of my house), I took ship from 
Flushing for England on January 15, 1917. 

The voyage through the danger zone was in- 
teresting. The visit to England was unfor- 
getable. 

Everywhere I saw the evidences that Great 
Britain was at war, in earnest, and resolved to 
carry orC^ with her Allies until the victory of 
a real peace was won. 

Women and girls were at work in the railway 
stations, on the trams and omnibuses, in the 
munition factories, in postal and telegraph 
service, doing the tasks of men. We shall have 
to revise that phrase which speaks of ‘Hhe 
weaker sex.” 

By night London was 

Darky darky darky irrecoverably dark.^^ 

But it was not still, nor terrified by the instant 
danger of Zeppelin raids. Every time a Ger- 
man vulture passed over England dropping 
bolts of indiscriminate death, it woke the heart 
of the people to a new impulse, not of fear but 
of hot indignation. 

By day the great city swarmed with eager 
life. Business was going on at full swing, though 
not ‘‘as usual.” Women were driving trucks, 
440 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

carrying packages, running ticket-oflSces. Men 
in khaki outnumbered those in civilian dress. 
Wounded soldiers hobbled cheerfully along the 
streets. The parks were adorned with hospitals. 
Mrs. Pankhurst spoke from a soap-box near the 
Marble Arch; not now for woman-suiBFrage — 
“That will come,” she said, “but the great 
thing to-day is to carry the war to a victory 
for freedom ! ” 

Oxford — gray city of the golden dream. 
Learning’s fairest and most lovely seat in all 
the world — Oxford was transformed into a 
hospital for the wounded, a training-camp for 
new soldiers, a nursery of noble manhood 
equipped for the stern duties of war. 

Every family that I knew was in grief for a 
dear one lost on the field of glorious strife. But 
they were not in mourning. The great sacrifice 
was bravely accepted as a part of the greater 
duty. 

The friends with whom I talked most — men 
like Viscount Bryce, Sir Sidney Lee, Sir Her- 
bert Warren, Sir Robertson Nicoll, Sir William 
Osier — ^were lovers of peace, tried and well- 
known. All were of one mind in holding that 
Britain’s faith and honour bound her to accept 
the war when Germany violated Belgium, and 
that it must be fought through until the Prus- 
441 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

sian military autocracy which began it was 
broken. 

There were restricted rations in England; 
but no starvation and no sign of it. There 
were partisan criticisms and plenty of ‘‘grous- 
ing.” The Britisher is never contented unless 
he can grumble — especially at his own govern- 
ment. But there was no lack of a real unity 
of purpose, nor of a solid, cheerful, bull-dog 
determination to hang on to the enemy until 
he came down. It is the spirit that has enabled 
a nation which was almost ignorant of what 
military preparedness meant, to put between 
three and four million troops into the field in 
defence of justice and liberty. 

At the end of January I went to France, 
eager to see with my own eyes the great things 
that were doing there and to taste with my 
own lips the cup of danger. That at least I 
was bound to do before I could come home and 
urge my countrymen to face the duty and brave 
the peril of a part in this war. 

Paris was not so dark as London but more 
tragic. After Belgium and Servia the heaviest 
brunt of this dreadful conflict has fallen upon 
France. She has suffered most. Yet on the 
faces of her women I saw no tears and in the 
eyes of her men no fear nor regret. 

442 


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If Britain was magnificent, France was mi- 
raculous ! Loving and desiring peace she ac- 
cepted the cross of war without a murmur. 
Her women were no less brave than her men. 
She wears the hero-star of Roland and the 
saintly halo of Joan of Arc. 

After meeting many men in Paris — states- 
men, men of letters, generals — and after visiting 
the splendid American Ambulance at Neuilly 
and other institutions in which our boys and 
girls were giving their help to France in the 
chivalric spirit of Lafayette, I went out toward 
the front. 

The first visit was under the escort of Cap- 
tain Frangois Monod to a chateau beyond Com- 
piegne, where Rudyard Kipling with his family 
and I with my family had passed the Christmas 
week of 1913 together, as joyous guests of the 
American chatelaine Mrs. Julia Park. She had 
given the spacious, lovely house for a militaiy 
hospital. And there, while the German guns 
thundered a few kilometres away from us and 
a German sausage balloon floated in the sky, I 
watched the skilful ministrations of French and 
American doctors and nurses to the wounded. 

One thought haunted me — the memory of 
Kipling’s only son, nineteen years old, who 
was with us in that happy Christmas-tide. The 
lad was reported ‘"missing” after one of the 
443 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


battles between Loos and Hulluch. For six 
months I sought, with the help of Herr von 
Kuhlmann, German Minister at The Hague, 
to find a trace of the brave boy. But never a 
word could we get. 

The second visit was to the battle-field of 
the Marne under the escort of Captain de 
Ganay. We motored slowly through the ruined 
towns and villages. Those which had been 
wrecked by shell-fire were like mouthfuls of 
broken teeth — chimneys and fragments of walls 
still standing. Those which had been venge- 
fully burned by the retreating Germans were 
mere heaps of ashes. Most of our time was 
spent around the Marais de St. Goad, where 
the French General Foch held the Thermopylae 
of Europe in September, 1914. 

Four times he advanced across that marsh 
and was driven back, but not beaten. The 
fifth time he advanced and stayed, and Paris 
was forever lost to the Germans. Think of 
the men who made that last advance and saved 
Europe. Their graves, carefully marked and 
tended, lie thickly strewn along the lonely ridges 
of all that region — humble but immortal re- 
minders of glorious heroism. 

The third visit was with the same escort to 
the fighting front at Verdun. 

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The long, bare, rolling ridges between Bar- 
le-Duc and the Meuse; the high-shouldered 
hills along the river and around the ruined little 
city; the open fields, the narrow valleys, the 
wrecked villages, the shattered woodlands — 
all were covered with dazzling snow. The sun 
was bright in a cloudless sky. A bitter, biting 
wind poured fiercely, steadily out of the north, 
driving the glittering snow-dust before it. Every 
man had put on all the clothes he possessed, and 
more; pads of sheepskin over back and breast; 
gunny sacks tied around the shoulders. The 
troops of cavalry, the teams of mules and horses 
dragging munition-wagons or travelling kitchens 
or long ‘‘75” guns, clattered along the iron 
surface of the Via Sacra— that blessed road 
which made the salvation of Verdun possible 
after the only railway was destroyed. Endless 
trains of motor-lorries lumbered by. The nar- 
row trenches were coated with ice. The hill- 
side trails were slippery as glass. In the deep 
dugouts small sheet-iron stoves were burning, 
giving out a little heat and a great deal of chok- 
ing smoke. The soldiers sat around them play- 
ing cards or telling stories. 

But there ! What I saw in that shell-pitted, 
snow-covered, hard-frozen amphitheatre of 
heroism cannot be described in these brief 
445 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


paragraphs. The serenity, cheerfulness, cour- 
tesy, and indomitable courage of the French 
'poilus defending their own land; the scenes in 
the trenches with the German shells breaking 
around us and the wounded men being carried 
past us; the luncheon in the citadel with the 
commandant and oflScers in a subterranean 
room where the motto on the wall, above the 
world-renowned escutcheon of Verdun, was 
‘‘On ne passe pas "^ — “They don’t get by”; the 
dinner with the general and staff of the Verdun 
army, in a little village “somewhere in France,” 
and their last words to me, “On les aura! Qa 
pent etre long, mais on les auraT — “It may 
take long, but we shall get them !” — all these 
and a thousand more things are vivid in my 
memory but cannot be told now. 

One scene rises in my mind and asks to be 
recorded. 

The hospital was a few miles back of the 
Verdun lines. Its roofs were marked with the 
Red Cross. Twenty-four hundred beds, all clean 
and quiet. Wards full of German wounded, 
cared for as tenderly as the French. “Will 
you see an operation?” said the proud little 
commandant who was showing me through 
his domain. “Certainly.” A big, husky fellow 
was on the operating-table, imconscious, under 
446 


STAND FAST, YE FREE! 

ether. One of the best surgeons in France was 
performing the operation of trepanning. I 
could see the patient’s brain, bare and beating, 
while the surgeon did his skilful work. Other 
doctors stood around, and three nurses, one 
an American girl. Miss Cowen, of Pittsburgh. 
‘‘Will the man get well?” I asked the surgeon. 
“I hope so,” he answered. “At all events, we 
shall do our best for him. You know, he is a 
German — c^est un BocheV^ 

On August 20, 1917, that very hospital, 
marked with the Red Cross, was bombed by 
German aeroplanes. One wing was set on fire. 
While the nurses and helpers were trying to 
rescue the patients, the bloody Potsdam vul- 
tures flew back and forth three times over the 
place, raking it with machine guns. More than 
thirty persons were killed, including doctors, 
German wounded, and one woman nurse. God 
grant it was not the American girl ! Yet why 
would not the killing of a French sister under 
the Red Cross be just as wicked ? 

Here I break off — uncompleted — ^my narra- 
tion of the evil choice of war and the crimes in 
the conduct of war which have made the name 
of Germany abhorred. 

The Allies, from the beginning, have pleaded 
447 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


for peace and fought for peace. America, obey- 
ing her conscience, has at last joined them in 
the conflict. 

But what do we mean now by peace We 
mean more than a mere cessation of hostilities. 
We mean that the burglar shall give back all 
that he has grabbed, We mean that the ma- 
rauder shall make good the damage that he 
has done. We mean that there shall be a league 
of free states, great and small, to guard against 
the recurrence of such a bloody calamity as 
the autocratic, militaristic Potsdam gang pre- 
cipitated upon the world in 1914. 

In the next chapter I shall discuss briefly 
the practical significance of this kind of peace 
and the absolute preconditions which must be 
realised before any conference on the subject 
will be profitable or even safe. 

The duty of the present is to fight on beside 
France, Great Britain, Italy, Belgium, Servia, 
Roumania, and, we hope, Russia, "‘to bring the 
Government of the German Empire to terms 
and end the war.” 

To talk of any other course is treason, not only 
to our country but to the cause of true Peace.* 

* N. B. These paragraphs, and the following chapter were written 
in September and October, 1917, when the air was full of talk, inspired 
by Germany, about “peace by negotiation,” an inconclusive and de- 
featist peace. The quotation is from President Wilson. 

448 


vn 


PAX HUMANA 
I 

rilHE trouble with the ordinary or garden 
variety of pacifist is that he has a merely 
negative idea of peace. 

The true idea of peace is positive, construc- 
tive, forward-looking. It is not content with 
a mere cessation of hostilities at any particular 
period of the world’s history. It aims at the 
establishment of reason and justice as the rule 
of the world’s life. It proposes to find the basis 
of this establishment in the freely expressed 
will of the peoples of the world. 

The men and women who do the world’s 
work are the sovereigns who must guarantee 
this real peace of the world. 

That is what we are fighting for. Not 'pax 
Romana, nor pax Germanicay nor pax Britan- 
nica, but pax Humana — a peace which will 
bring a positive benefit to all the tribes of hu- 
manity. 

Since the choice by the Imperial German 
449 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


Government, in August, 1914, of war as the 
means of settling international disputes, the 
Allies have been fighting against that choice 
and its bloody consequences. Every one of 
them — Great Britain, France, Italy, Russia — 
had pleaded for arbitration, conference, con- 
sultation, to avert this fearful conflict of arms. 
But it was in vain. 

The United States of America, forced by the 
flagrant violation of its neutral rights to take 
an active part in the war, and led by its sym- 
pathies to the side of the Allies, committed by 
honour and conscience to the duty of fighting 
for a real peace of mankind, must carry on the 
war until its humane and democratic object is 
attained. To do less than that would be to 
renounce our place as a great nation, to deny 
our faith as Americans, and to expose our coun- 
try to incalculable peril and disaster. 

But now that all the nations of the earth 
have begun to realise the horror of this war, 
and to desire its ending, it is necessary for us, 
in conjunction with our friends of peaceful and 
democratic purpose, to consider, first, the con- 
ditions under which peace with the Imperial 
German Government may be considered, and, 
second, the terms on which peace may possibly 
be concluded. 


450 


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II 

THE CONDITIONS OF A PEACE CONFERENCE 

We should distinguish clearly between the 
conditions which must be fulfilled before we 
can honourably enter into any talk of peace 
with our adversary, the begetter and beginner 
of this war; and the terms which the Allies and 
the United States and the other nations at war 
with Germany would put forward as a just 
and durable basis for the establishment of peace. 

This distinction is essential. The conditions 
are antecedent and indispensable. Until they 
are fulfilled we cannot talk with the enemy, 
except in the language which he has chosen 
and forced upon us — the stem tongue of battle 
by land and sea. 

Germany grandiloquently claims to be the 
first to propose a peace conference as a sub- 
stitute for the horrors of war. (See the Kaiser’s 
note of December 12, 1916.*) 

* This note contains not the slightest reference to the nature of the 
suggested peace. Its tone conforms to the orders which the Kaiser 
issued to his army on the same day: “Under the influence of the vic- 
tory which you have gained by your bravery, I and the monarchs of 
the three states in alliance with me have made an offer of peace to the 
enemy. It is uncertain whether the object at which this offer is aimed 
will be reached. You will have meanwhile, with God’s help, to con- 
tinue to resist and defeat the enemy.” It was not a proposal of peace. 
It was a proclamation of victory— German victory — and an invitation 
to surrender. 


451 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


She forgets the many proposals for such a 
conference which were made to her in the fate- 
ful month of July, 1914, by Servia, France, 
Great Britain, Italy, and Russia — all of which 
she contemptuously brushed aside in her scorn- 
ful will to war. She forgets the offences against 
international law and against the plain precepts 
of humanity which she has committed since 
that time and which have earned for her the 
indignation and mistrust of mankind. She 
forgets that her so-called proposal for a peace 
conference contained no suggestion of the terms 
of peace which she was willing to discuss. She 
forgets that, such a proposal is a mere hypo- 
critical mockery. No sane person, no intelli- 
gent nation, would enter into a conference with- 
out knowledge of the things to be considered. 

This last point lies at the base of President 
Wilson’s note of December 18, 1916, suggesting 
that the belligerent powers, on both sides, should 
‘‘avow their respective views as to the terms 
upon which the war might be concluded and 
the arrangements which would be deemed satis- 
factory as a guarantee against its renewal or 
the kindling of any similar conflict in the future.” 
This note, I believe, was sent to all the American 
Ambassadors and Ministers in Europe, with in- 
structions to communicate it to the Govern- 
452 


PAX HUMANA 


ments to which they were accredited, whether 
belligerent or neutral. 

Here is a point at which I can throw a little 
new light upon the situation. I handed the 
note, as I was ordered to do, to the Dutch Minis- 
ter, without comment or recommendation. Al- 
most immediately the German-subsidised press 
in Holland began to assail the Dutch Govern- 
ment for failing to support President Wilson’s 
note. It seemed to me that this was a false- 
hood, unjust to Holland, injurious to our Gov- 
ernment, which had not asked for support. 
Therefore I made the following statement to 
the press on January 9, 1917 : 

“The Dutch Minister of Foreign Affairs is 
absolutely correct in saying that I handed him 
President Wilson’s note of December 18 with- 
out any request or suggestion that the Nether- 
lands Government should support it. I did so 
because I was so instructed by my Government. 
I was told to transmit the President’s note 
simply as a matter of information. No request 
was added. The reason for this is because 
America understands the delicate and diflScult 
position of the Netherlands Government, in the 
midst of the present war, and will not urge nor 
even ask it to do anything which it does not 
judge to be wise and prudent and helpful. I 
453 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


have done my best to promote this right under- 
standing of the position of Holland in the United 
States, and I shall continue to do so. I have 
no knowledge of any instructions from Wash- 
ington in regard to the manner of delivering 
the President’s note in Spain. 

‘^ What I cannot understand is the general 
misunderstanding of that note. It expressly 
declared that it was not an offer of mediation 
nor a proposal of peace. It was simply a sug- 
gestion that the belligerents on both sides should 
state the terms on which they would be willing 
to consider and discuss peace. The Entente 
Powers have already done this with some clear- 
ness, and will probably soon do so even more 
clearly. The Central Powers have politely, 
even affectionately, but very practically, de- 
clined the President’s invitation to state their 
terms. There is the deadlock on peace talk at 
present. When both sides are equally frank 
the world can judge whether the peace which 
all just men desire is near or far away.” 

The accuracy and propriety of this state- 
ment have never been questioned by the De- 
partment of State. On the contrary, it was 
practically affirmed by the President in his 
address to the Senate on January 22, 1917, 
when he said: 

‘‘On the 18th of December last I addressed 
454 


PAX HUMANA 


an identic note to the Governments of the na- 
tions now at war, requesting them to state, 
more definitely than they had yet been stated 
by either group of belligerents, the terms upon 
which they would deem it possible to make 
peace. I spoke on behalf of humanity and of 
the rights of all neutral nations like our own, 
many of whose most vital interests the war 
puts in constant jeopardy. 

‘‘The Central Powers united in a reply which 
stated merely that they were ready to meet 
their antagonists in conference to discuss terms 
of peace. 

“The Entente Powers have replied much 
more definitely and have stated, in general 
terms indeed, but with sufficient definiteness 
to imply details, the arrangements, guarantees, 
and acts of reparation which they deem to be 
indispensable conditions of a satisfactory settle- 
ment.’’ 

Here, then, we come within sight of the first 
of the conditions which are absolutely precedent, 
at least so far as America is concerned, to any 
discussion of peace. 

1. Germany must answer President Wilson’s 
note of December 18, 1916. She must state her 
terms of peace, maximum or minimum, frankly 
and unequivocally. 

Germany asserts that she is waging a de- 
455 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


fensive war. She must tell the world what she 
is defending. That she has never been willing 
to do. 

Germany asserts that she is victorious thus 
far. She must say what she thinks her ‘‘vic- 
tories” mean, and what they entitle her to 
claim and keep. 

In brief, Germany must lay her cards on 
the table. If she wants peace — and certainly 
she needs it, — she must be willing to say what 
she means by it. 

^2, The second condition precedent to any 
discussion of peace terms with Germany has 
been clearly defined by President Wilson in 
his reply to the note issued by His Holiness 
Pope Benedict. 

That reply was thoroughly sympathetic and 
conciliatory. Among its frank and strong para- 
graphs there was one which must be particularly 
noted: 

“We cannot take the word of the present 
rulers of Germany as a guarantee of anything 
that is to endure unless explicitly supported by 
such conclusive evidence of the will and pur- 
pose of the German people themselves as the 
other peoples of the world would be justified in 
accepting. Without such guarantees, treaties 
of settlement, agreements for disarmament, cov- 
456 


PAX HUMANA 


enants to set up arbitration in the place of 
force, territorial adjustments, reconstitutions of 
small nations, if made with the German Govern- 
ment, no man, no nation, could now depend on.” 

Understand — this was not a flat refusal to 
treat with the House of Hohenzollern in any 
circumstances, which the more rabid and less 
thoughtful newspapers of England have urged. 
It was merely a statement that the rulers of 
Germany must have behind them a suflicient 
and explicit mandate and guarantee of the peo- 
ple of Germany before we can trust them. 

We do not presume to interfere in the in- 
ternal affairs of the German Empire. The peo- 
ple of that empire have a right to say how they 
shall be ruled. If they like the Hohenzollerns, 
so be it ! 

All that we ask is some clear, democratic 
guarantee of the German people behind the 
word of its chosen Government. 

Does this mean a complete reformation of 
the German Empire, which in effect now con- 
sists of twenty-two hereditary kings, princes, 
dukes, and grand dukes, with the Kaiser at 
the head.^ Does it mean a constitutional re- 
moulding of the empire.^ 

That would be a long process. The people 
of Germany are well disciplined. There is small 
457 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


prospect of a revolution in that country unless 
war compels it. 

What is it that we are pledged by President 
Wilson’s statement to insist upon as a precon- 
dition of any peace conference with Germany? 
Simply this — that behind the word of the Kaiser 
there must be the word of the German people. 

That word must be given in advance and in 
a way which will satisfy both the Allies and 
the United States. It is for the German people 
to find the way. 

We cannot honourably talk peace with Ger- 
many until that way is found. 

3. The third condition antecedent to a con- 
ference on peace is the renunciation and aban- 
donment of the German submarine warfare 
upon merchant shipping. 

On this point I do not speak with any kind 
of authority or official sanction. What I say 
is based, indeed, upon words uttered with the 
highest authority. But the conclusion drawn 
from them is merely my own judgment and 
has no force beyond that of the reasoning that 
has led me to it. 

The American position in regard to this sub- 
marine warfare — its illegality, its inhumanity — 
has been clearly and eloquently defined by our 
Government again and again. 

458 


PAX HUMANA 


‘‘The Government of the United States has 
been apprised that the Imperial German Gov- 
ernment considered themselves to be obliged, 
by the extraordinary circumstances of the pres- 
ent war and the measures adopted by their 
adversaries in seeking to cut Germany off from 
all commerce, to adopt methods of retaliation 
which go much beyond the ordinary methods 
of warfare at sea, in the proclamation of a war 
zone from which they have warned neutral 
ships to keep away. This Government has al- 
ready taken occasion to inform the Imperial 
German Government that it cannot admit the 
adoption of such measures or such a warning 
of danger to operate as in any degree an ab- 
breviation of the rights of American ship-mas- 
ters or of American citizens bound on lawful 
errands as passengers on merchant ships of 
belligerent neutrality; and that it must hold 
the Imperial German Government to a strict 
accountability for any infringement of those 
rights, intentional or incidental. It does not 
understand the Imperial German Government 
to question those rights. It assumes, on the 
contrary, that the Imperial German Govern- 
ment accept, as of course, the rule that the 
lives of non-combatants, whether they be of 
neutral citizenship or citizens of one of the na- 
459 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


lions at war, cannot lawfully or rightfully be 
put in jeopardy by the capture or destruction 
of an unarmed merchantman, and recognise 
also, as all other nations do, the obligation to 
take the usual precaution of visit and search to 
ascertain whether a suspected merchantman is 
in fact of belligerent nationality or is in fact 
carrying contraband of war under a neutral 
flag.” (The Secretary of State, Washington, 
D. C., to the German Minister for Foreign Af- 
fairs, May 13, 1915.) 

“The fact that more than one hundred Amer- 
ican citizens were among those who perished” 
(reference to the sinking of the Lusitania) “made 
it the duty of the Government of the United 
States to speak of these things and once more, 
with solemn emphasis, to call the attention of 
the Imperial German Government to the grave 
responsibility which the Government of the 
United States conceives that it has incurred in 
this tragic occurrence, and to the indisputable 
principle upon which that responsibility rests. 
The Government of the United States is con- 
tending for something much greater than mere 
rights of property or privileges of commerce. 
It is contending for nothing less high and sacred 
than the rights of humanity, which every gov- 
ernment honours itself in respecting and which 
460 


PAX HUMANA 


no government is justified in resigning on be- 
half of those under its care and authority.” 
(The Secretary of State, Washington, D. C., 
to the German Minister for Foreign Affairs, 
June 9, 1915.) 

‘Tf a belligerent cannot retaliate against an 
enemy without injuring the lives of neutrals 
as well as their property, humanity, as well as 
justice and a due regard for the dignity of neu- 
tral powers, should dictate that the practice 
be discontinued. If persisted in it would in 
such circumstances constitute an unpardonable 
offence against the sovereignty of the neutral 
nation affected. . . . The rights of neutrals in 
time of war are based upon principle, not upon 
expediency, and the principles are immutable. 
It is the duty and obligation of belligerents to 
find a way to adapt the new circumstances to 
them.” (The Secretary of State, Washington, 
D. C., to the German Minister for Foreign Af- 
fairs, July 21, 1915.) 

“The law of nations in these matters, upon 
which the Government of the United States 
based that protest” (i. e., against the German 
declaration of February, 1915, declaring the 
danger zone around Great Britain and Ireland) 
“is not of recent origin or founded upon merely 
arbitrary principles set up by convention. It 
461 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


is based, on the contrary, upon manifest prin- 
ciples of humanity and has long been estab- 
lished with the approval and by the express 
assent of all civilized nations. ... It has be- 
come painfully evident to it (the Government 
of the United States) that the position which 
it took at the very outset is inevitable, namely 
— the use of submarines for the destruction 
of an enemy’s commerce is, of necessity, be- 
cause of the very character of the vessels em- 
ployed and the very methods of attack which 
their employment of course involves, utterly 
incompatible with the principles of humanity, 
the long-established and incontrovertible rights 
of neutrals, and the sacred immunities of non- 
combatants.” (The Secretary of State, Wash- 
ington, D. C., to the German Minister for For- 
eign Affairs, April 18, 1916.) 

“But we cannot forget that we are in some 
sort and by the force of circumstances the re- 
sponsible spokesmen of the rights of humanity, 
and that we cannot remain silent while those 
rights seem in process of being swept away in 
the maelstrom of this terrible war. We owe 
it to a due regard for our own rights as a nation, 
to our sense of duty as a representative of the 
rights of neutrals the world over, and to a just 
conception of the rights of mankind to take 
462 


PAX HUMANA 


this stand now with the utmost solemnity and 
firmness.’’ (President Wilson’s Address to Con- 
gress, April 19, 1916.) 

^^The 'present German warfare against com- 
merce is a warfare against mankind. It is a war 
against all nations. American ships have been 
sunky American lives taken, in ways which it has 
stirred us very deeply to learn of, hut the ships 
and people of other neutral and friendly nations 
have been sunk and overwhelmed in the waters 
in the same way. There has been no discrimina- 
tion. The challenge is to all mankind. Each 
nation must decide for itself how it will meet 
it.” (President Wilson’s Message to Congress, 
April 2, 1917.) 

The United States cannot go back on these 
words. They are fundamental in our position. 
I do not know whether the Allies have formally 
indorsed them or not. But that makes no dif- 
ference. It seems to me that for America, with 
her traditional, unalterable devotion to the 
doctrine of Mare Liberum, as Grotius stated it, 
there can be no peace conference with a Gov- 
ernment which acts in flagrant violation of that 
principle. 

I think that for us at least — we do not ven- 
ture to speak for the Allies, though we believe 
they sympathise with our point of view — there 
463 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


can be no peace parley with Germany until she 
renounces and abandons her atrocious method 
of submarine warfare on merchant shipping. 

Here, then, are the three conditions which 
ought to be fulfilled before we can honourably 
enter a conference on peace with the Imperial 
German Government. The first is a legitimate 
inference from the statements of the President. 
The second has been positively laid down by 
the President. The third is drawn, purely on 
my own responsibility, from his words. 

First, Germany should frankly declare the 
aims with which she began this war, and the 
purposes with which she continues it on the 
territories which she has invaded. 

Second, Germany must offer adequate guaran- 
tees that in any peace negotiations her rulers 
shall speak only and absolutely with the voice 
of the people behind them — in other words, 
with a democratic, not an autocratic, sanction. 

Third, Germany ought to give a pledge of 
good faith by the abandonment of her illegal 
and inhuman submarine warfare on the mer- 
chant shipping of the world. 

Is it likely that the predatory Potsdam gang 
will be willing to accept these three conditions 
soon ? 

I frankly confess that I do not know. Ger- 
464 


PAX HUMANA 


many is in sore straits. That I know from per- 
sonal observation. But I know also that she 
is magnificently organised, trained, and disci- 
plined for obedience to the imperial will. She 
will carry her fight for world empire to the last 
limit. 

When that limit is reached, when the Ger- 
man people know that the attempt of their 
rulers to dominate the world by war has failed, 
then it will be time to talk with them about 
the terms of peace. 


Ill 

THE TERMS OF PEACE 

This is a long subject; and for that reason 
I mean to make it a short chapter. 

1. A discussion of peace terms with our 
enemy, the Imperial German Government, is 
neither desirable nor safe under the present 
conditions. 

Until that Government is disabused of the 
delusion that it has won, is winning, or will 
win a substantial victory in this war, it is not 
likely to say anything sane or reasonable about 
peace. A pax Germanica is all that it is now 
willing to discuss. 

But that is just what we do not want. To 
465 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


enter such a discussion now would be both futile 
and perilous. 

It would probably postpone the coming of 
that real fax humana for which the Allies have 
already made such great sacrifices, and for 
which we have pledged ourselves to fight at 
their side. 

But meantime it is wise and right and useful 
to let the German people know, by such means 
as we can find, that we have not entered this 
war in the spirit of revenge or conquest, and 
that their annihilation or enslavement is not 
among the ends which we contemplate. 

An admirable opportunity to give this hu- 
mane and prudent assurance was offered by the 
Pope’s proposal of a peace conference (August, 
1917). President Wilson, with characteristic 
acuteness and candour, made good use of this 
opportunity. While declining the proposal 
clearly and firmly, as impossible under the 
present conditions, he added the following 
statement of the peace purposes of the United 
States — a statement which approaches a defini- 
tion by the process of exclusion: 

‘"Punitive damages, the dismemberment of 
empires, the establishment of selfish and ex- 
clusive economic leagues, we deem inexpedient, 
and in the end worse than futile, no proper 
466 


PAX HUMANA 


basis for a peace of any kind, least of all for 
an enduring peace, that must be based upon 
justice and fairness and the common rights of 
mankind.” (President Wilson’s Note to His 
Holiness the Pope, August 27, 1917.) 

Thus far (and in my judgment no farther) 
we may go in an indirect, third-personal dis- 
cussion of the terms of peace with our enemy. 

2. On the other hand, a full discussion of the 
terms of peace with our friends, the allied na- 
tions, will be most profitable — indeed, it is ab- 
solutely necessary. 

The sooner it comes — the more frank, thor- 
ough, and confidential it is — the better ! 

The Allies, as President Wilson said in the 
address already quoted (January 22, 1917), 
have stated their terms of peace ‘‘with sufiicient 
definiteness to imply details.” 

These terms have been summed up again 
and again in three general words: Restitution, 
Reparation, Guarantees for the future. 

It is for us to discuss the details which are 
implied in these terms, not with our enemy, but 
with our friends who have borne the brunt of 
this German war against peace. 

Nothing which would make their sacrifice 
vain could ever satisfy the heart and conscience 
of the United States. 


467 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


We cannot honourably accept a peace which 
would leave Belgium, Luxembourg, Servia, 
Montenegro, Roumania crushed and helpless 
in the hands of their captors. 

We cannot honourably accept a peace which 
would leave our sister republic France hope- 
lessly exposed to the same kind of an assault 
which Germany made upon her in 1870 and in 
1914. 

We cannot honourably accept a peace which 
would leave Great Britain crippled and power- 
less to work with us in the maintenance of the 
freedom of the sea. 

We cannot honourably accept a peace which 
would leave the Italian demand for unity un- 
satisfied, and the new Russian Republic help- 
less before its foes. 

Such, it seems to me, are the principles which 
must guide and govern us in the coming confer- 
ence with our friends about the terms of peace. 

In regard to the right of the peoples of the 
world, small or great, to determine their own 
form of government and their own action, we 
are fully committed. This principle is funda- 
mental to our existence as a nation. President 
Wilson has reaffirmed it again and again, never 
more clearly or significantly than in his address 
to the Senate on January 22, 1917. 

468 


PAX HUMANA 


‘‘And there is a deeper thing involved than 
even equality of rights among organised nations. 
No peace can last which does not recognise and 
accept the principle that governments derive 
all their just powers from the consent of the 
governed, and that no right anywhere exists to 
hand people about from sovereignty to sover- 
eignty as if they were property. 

“I take it for granted, for instance, if I may 
venture upon a single example, that statesmen 
everywhere are agreed that there should be a 
united, independent, and autonomous Poland, 
and that henceforth inviolable security of life, 
of worship, and of industrial and social develop- 
ment should be guaranteed to all peoples who 
have lived hitherto under the power of govern- 
ments devoted to a faith and purpose hostile 
to their own.” 

This “example” must be interpreted in its 
full bearing upon all the questions which are 
likely to come up in the conference in regard 
to the terms of peace. 

There is one more fixed point in the terms of 
a peace which the United States and the Allies 
can accept with honour. That is the forma- 
tion, after this war is ended, of a compact, an 
alliance, a league of free democratic nations, 
469 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


pledged to use their combined forces, diplo- 
matic, economic, and military, against the be- 
ginning of war by any nation which has not 
previously submitted its cause to international 
inquiry, conciliation, arbitration, or judicial 
hearing. 

Here, again, experience enables me to throw 
a little new light upon the situation. In No- 
vember, 1914, on my way home to report at 
Washington, I had the privilege of conveying 
a personal, unofficial message from the British 
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sir Edward (now 
Viscount) Grey. Remember, at this time Amer- 
ica was neutral, and the “League to Enforce 
Peace” had not come into public discussion. 

This was the substance of the message: 

‘The presence and influence of America in 
the council of peace after the war will be most 
welcome to us provided we can be assured of 
two things: First, that America stands for 
the restoration of all that Germany has seized 
in Belgium and France. Second, that America 
will enter and support, by force if necessary, 
a league of nations pledged to resist and punish 
any war begun without previous submission 
of the cause to international investigation and 
judgment.’ 

This message I took to Washington in 1914. 

470 


PAX HUMANA 


Since that time the society called ‘‘The League 
to Enforce Peace” has been organised in Amer- 
ica (June 17, 1915). In my opinion it would 
be better named the “League to Defend Peace.” 
But the name makes little difference. It is the 
principle, the idea, that counts. 

This idea has been publicly approved by 
the leading spokesmen of all the allied nations, 
and notably by President Wilson in his speech 
at the League banquet. May 27, 1916, and in 
his address to the Senate, January 22, 1917, 
in which he said: 

“Mere terms of peace between the bellig- 
erents will not satisfy even the belligerents 
themselves. Mere agreements may not make 
peace secure. It will be absolutely necessary 
that a force be created as a guarantor of the 
permanency of the settlement so much greater 
than the force of any nation now engaged in 
any alliance hitherto formed or projected that 
no nation, no probable combination of nations, 
could face or withstand it. If the peace pres- 
ently to be made is to endure it must be a peace 
made secure by the organised major force of man- 

kindy 

Consider for a moment what such an organ- 
isation would mean. 

It would mean, first of all, the strongest 
471 


FIGHTING FOR PEACE 


possible condemnation of the attitude and ac- 
tion of Germany and her assistants in plotting, 
choosing, beginning, and forcing the present 
war upon the world. It is precisely because she 
refused to submit the Austro-Servian quarrel, 
and her own secret plans and purposes to in- 
vestigation, conference, judicial inquiry, that 
her blood-guiltiness is most flagrant, and her 
criminal assault upon the world’s peace cries to 
Heaven for punishment. 

Moreover, such an organisation of free demo- 
cratic states would mean a practical step toward 
a new era of international relations. It would 
amount, in effect, to what Premier Ribot, of 
France, in his recent address at the anniversary 
of the battle of the Marne, called ‘‘a league of 
common defence.” It would be a new kind of 
treaty of alliance — open, not secret — ^made by 
peoples, not by monarchs — an alliance against 
wars of aggression and conquest — an alliance 
against all wars whose beginners are unwilling 
to submit their cause to the common judgment 
of mankind. Such an open treaty of defence 
would practically condemn and cancel all secret 
treaties for aggressive war as treasonable con- 
spiracies against the commonwealth of the 
world. 

But would the organisation of such a league 
472 


PAX HUMANA 


of nations to defend peace make war hence- 
forward impossible ? 

No sane man, who knows the ignorance, the 
imperfection, the passionate frailty of human 
nature entertains such a wild dream or makes 
such an extravagant claim. 

All that the league could hope to do would 
be to make an aggressive war, such as Germany 
thrust upon the world in 1914, more difficult and 
more dangerous. All that it could offer would 
be a new safeguard of peace, based upon justice, 
and supported by the common faith, the col- 
lective force, and the mutual trust of demo- 
cratic peoples. 

That is one of the things — ^yes, I think it is 
the most important thing — ^for which we are 
now fighting with the Allies against Germany 
and her assistants: 

PEACE WITH POWER! 

1917. 


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FINAL NOTE 


rpHE foregoing chapter was written in the 
autumn of 1917. For a year after that 
the United States fought beside the Allies, and 
gave freely of her best blood and treasure to 
win the victory which came on November 11, 
1918. 

By that victory the three conditions which 
I described as necessary before a peace con- 
ference could be held, were all fulfilled and 
something over. In the armistice Germany 
did more than state her terms; she accepted 
the terms imposed by the commanders of the 
allied armies. She did more than put the man- 
date of her people behind the voice of her rulers; 
she threw the Potsdam gang out, and changed 
her government from an empire to a republic. 
She did more than stop her submarine war; 
she stopped war altogether, and laid down her 
arms. The armistice was in fact a military sur- 
render on conditions dictated by the Allies. 

The terms which seemed to me essential to 
a true peace were all included in the Treaty of 
Versailles. Restitution of stolen territory and 
goods was required: guarantees for the future 
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FINAL NOTE 


were exacted: reparation is in progress, delayed 
only by a necessary consideration of how much, 
and when, Germany may be able to pay for 
the damage she has done. The covenant of the 
League of Nations is embodied in the treaty 
which Germany has signed, and she is now 
waiting for admission to that League, which is 
in existence as a “going concern.” 

Yet the world is still in trouble and the hori- 
zon is not clear. This is partly the inevitable 
consequence of a war so vast and wild that its 
bad effects will last a long time, and everybody 
will have to share the burden of them. But 
it is also partly the result of two strange and 
unforeseen events: the degradation of Russia, 
under the Bolshevik dictatorship, after a pre- 
mature and shameful peace with Germany; and 
the failure of the United States to ratify the 
treaty of peace and enter the League of Nations. 

For the cure of the first ill, we must put our 
confidence in a quarantine to prevent the Bol- 
shevik disease from spreading, and in the power 
of sad experience to bring the Russian people 
to their senses. This may take some years. 
But it is the only method. Outside interfer- 
ence with Russia will only increase the trouble. 

The second ill, America’s delay in confirm- 
ing the victory of peace, seems to me nothing 
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FIGHTING FOR PEACE 

more than a temporary relapse into that cold 
fit of selfish indifferentism which kept her for a 
time from doing her duty in the war. It will 
pass. The petty partisan rivalries, jealousies, 
and spites which brought on the relapse, will 
blow away. America, returning to reason, will 
prove herself a world-friend as well as a world- 
power. She will take the place which belongs 
to her in the councils of mankind. She will 
uphold the peace which she helped to win. 
She will justify Wilson’s great hope and help 
to ‘‘make the world safe for democracy.” She 
will fulfil the prophecy of Washington, and 
“give to mankind the magnanimous and too 
novel example of a People always guided by an 
exalted justice and benevolence. . . . Can it 
be that Providence has not connected the per- 
manent felicity of a Nation with its virtue.^” 

Avalon, October 16, 1920. 


476 








